Where's the Seatbelt on This Thing!
by SXYPigeon
Summary: Keep in mind, hers wasn't quite as lacy..." George examined the clothing in his hands, "or as transparent if I remember correctly." I'm back and I've changed my penname
1. Panties and Planes

Panties and Planes

_Hi! This story follows Ron and Hermione during their time apart while Hermione searches for her parents. The story also attempts to show the physical and emotional progress made by individuals in the magical community in the weeks following the war._

_Disclaimer: I am not JKRowling, nor have I ever been, nor will I ever be. I do not make any form of monetary profit from writing about characters belonging to JKR and WB. _

_Final note: The prologue starts out a bit slow. Either have patience or skip to the first set of "*******". Thanks for reading._

**Prologue:**

_Bing!_ came the sound of the "Please Fasten Your Seatbelt" sign switching off. The darkened morning sky was just beginning to give way to the vibrant rays of light from the rising sun as Hermione released her death grip on the armrest of her seat. It wasn't that she had a problem with flying, it was the complete lack of control over her current situation that she wasn't fond of. She would be at the mercy of the pilot until Bangkok and then again until Sydney. She was in essence a prisoner, forced to remain stationary and docile. _Okay, so that's not entirely true, but it might as well be_, she thought bitterly. Hermione looked around the crowded airplane cabin and gave a tired sigh. Muggles from every walk of life were seated around her: suit types, casual types, student groups, families . . . _What an arbitrary concept. _The idea of a "family" had changed drastically for Hermione in just the past week alone.

She closed her eyes and tried to relax. Harry and Ron made up her first non-traditional family years ago; the three of them lived nearly half of their lives as brothers and sister (even if, at times, her feelings towards one of her "brothers" could have been categorized as more than just platonic). And then there were the Weasleys, her surrogate, magic doing, teasingly-frustrating-at-times family. The Weasleys were able to explain the world to her in ways her own parents could not. Molly Weasley even sat her and Ginny down two summers ago and explained magical contraceptives; aside from the whole experience being extremely awkward and embarrassing, Hermione found the gesture very sweet in a motherly sort of way.

A patch of turbulence caused Hermione to tighten her grip on the armrest again. Since the battle a week ago, her idea of a family had stretched to include not only her own family and friends, but everyone she had fought beside during the last fight to finally end the war. In the six hours after the battle she embraced, laughed with, cried with, and healed more people than she could count. She left for the hospital wing less than half an hour after Riddle's death to help with the enormous number of injured, leaving Ron behind to care for his grieving family and Harry to care for the four dozen or so needing only to be in his presence.

Hermione had felt a sense of familiarity and awe with everyone she came in contact with that morning, whether she knew them previously or not. She knew Harry felt the same, as for Ron, she wasn't so sure.

It wasn't that either of them felt awkward about their quick snog in the Room of Requirement, they'd enjoyed a few more since the end of the war. The problem it seemed was not a lack of physical affection, but a lack communication. Hermione gave another sigh and closed her eyes. It was the oldest relationship problem in the book and yet she was powerless to avoid it.

The woman sitting next to Hermione gave violent sneeze; they exchanged _bless you_'s and _thank you_'s before each returned to their previous thoughts. The death of Fredrick Weasley was hard on everyone, none more so than George. After arriving at the Burrow, George barricaded himself in his and Fred's old room and wasn't seen for nearly two days. When he emerged from his fortress of solitude, George looked about as pale and thin as Ron; the jokes he made were seemed half-hearted and his laughter never met his eyes.

Molly and Arthur, it seemed, weren't fairing much better. Molly went about her daily routine as best she could, but there were often long stretches of time when she'd disappear upstairs for hours at a time and would return puffy-eyed and more somber than ever. Arthur remained at the Ministry until well after dinner and left the next day before any of the Weasley children rose for breakfast, except for Percy who accompanied his father in the mornings. He looked more worn and exhausted with each passing day until, after three days of that, Molly laid down the law and demanded that he and Percy take the rest of the week off until Fred's funeral.

Each of the Weasleys' remaining children were trying to cope with the loss of a brother in various ways. Bill, Charlie, and Percy were all suffering from guilt from being unable to protect their younger brother. Bill rarely spoke to anyone other than Fleur, Charlie lashed out at anyone who tried to talk to him about Fred, and Percy tried to bury himself in Ministry work. But by the time the night before the funeral rolled around, all three were laughing with George over a bottle of Oden's reminiscing about some of the twins' best pranks.

Ron and Ginny had been handling the situation identically, that was, they'd both been in denial. Neither had been ready to admit they'd lost a brother and went about their days detached from the rest of the world. Ginny had been silent through most of the day, even refusing to talk to Harry, while Ron had taken the opposite approach and became the most talkative member of the family. Ron had spent his days comforting his family, but refused to be comforted himself by anyone, including Hermione.

"Can I get either of you ladies anything to drink?" Hermione looked up to see a middle aged woman in a stewardess uniform smiling down at her and the sneezing woman. Both declined and the woman moved on.

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to relax again in hopes that sleep would quickly come and mercifully take her away to a happier place and time.

*******

"Oi! Ronnie, I know you're out here. I have a proposition for you!"

Ron groaned under his breath and sat up. The whole point of sitting by the family pond was to be alone; unfortunately George hadn't seemed to have come to the same conclusion. "What do you want George?" Ron called out.

The shorter red-head rounded the corner and rolled his eyes. "You're _still_ moping around? She left over three hours ago, mate."

"I hadn't noticed," Ron said under his breath. "What do you want?"

"Mum's worried about you, so she sent me to find you and to tell you to have breakfast before she starts lunch."

"Fine, I'm going." Ron stood and started to walk toward the Burrow when George caught him by the arm. "You haven't asked me what my proposition is yet," George said with a grin.

It was Ron's turn to roll his eyes. "If it has anything to do with spiking Harry's pumpkin juice at lunch, I think I'll pass."

"No, but if I hear the boy-who-lived-twice apologize for one more thing I might consider it." George seemed slightly nervous as he said, "What would you say if I suggested you and I ditch the Burrow for a few hours today?"

"Where do you suggest we ditch the Burrow for?" There was no need to ask _why_. Though things were beginning to return to some semblance of normalcy, the Burrow just wasn't the same . . . nor would it ever be.

"I was thinking that we could head over to Diagon Alley and check on the shop. You know, make sure it's still standing," George tried to say in an off-hand sort of way.

Ron contemplated his brother. It had been only a week since the battle and Fred's death and only two days since his funeral; it seemed like George was coping a little _too_ well with the death of his twin. Ron tried playing thick, "'Mione was just there yesterday. . . . She said yours and Fred's protection charms seemed to have held. . . . She did say something about a shrine in front of the building though. . . ."

George cocked an eyebrow, "Yeah, she did Ronnie-boy. Are you coming with me or not?"

"I - sure. Yeah, I'm going," Ron groaned. "But - I mean . . . George, are you sure?"

"I'm sure," George said, looking more serious than Ron had ever seen him before. "Now hurry up and eat. I want to get out of here before lunch."

After a scarfed meal and hasty reassurances to his mum that he was indeed okay and explaining to her his and George's plans for the day, they set-off for Diagon Alley. Ron kept a close eye on his brother, but couldn't distinguish any emotion in George other than general nervousness.

Diagon Alley was as vacant as Lockhart's mind, in Ron's opinion anyway. The few other souls flirting about the streets appeared and disappeared as quickly as they came into shops and restaurants. Following the pace set by other witches and wizards, George and Ron made their way efficiently and watchfully down the empty street towards Wheezes. Ron couldn't help but feel uneasy walking past Gringrotts and kept a tight grip on his wand until they reached their destination.

"Want to say _hi_ to the goblins while we're here, Ronnie?" George asked as they walked by the wizarding bank.

Ron merely mumble something that sounded a lot like _piss off_ and continued towards the twins' shop.

Even a block away, Ron could see what Hermione had been talking about as they spotted the shop. "Bloody hell . . . I guess she was right when Hermione said it was a bit unorthodox," Ron said.

"Yeah . . ." George mumbled. The entire store front was covered with what looked at first like a heaping pile of rubbish. As they neared the store, the brothers took in the chaos dedicated to Fred. There were sympathy cards among toilet seats, pictures scattered in with used (and unused) dung bombs, and even a . . .

"Is that a thong?" Ron asked in slight disbelief.

George walked over and snatched it out of the pile. "I think I know who this is from."

"Who?!" Ron asked without thinking.

George raised an eyebrow. "Why, I think it belonged to your girlfriend," he said with a smirk.

Ron's ears burned scarlet. "She doesn't . . . It's not . . . Hermione did not leave that!"

"How would you know? The two of you have only been going out for a week," George said in mock-confusion. "Bloody hell! has Ronnikins already found his way into the innocent bookworm's pants?"

By that point Ron's entire face resembled a beet and was silenced by his indignation. "Well - Have you?" George asked.

"No! I - We've only . . . Sod off, George!"

George finally gave into his mirth and burst out laughing. "Take it easy, Ron. I'm pretty sure Hermione didn't leave the panties . . . although I suppose she _could_ have . . ." George trailed off at the look on Ron's face. "What? You can't see your innocent bookworm dawning one of these?"

"No, I can picture her just fine in one. I just can't see her owning one of those." Ron said shortly.

George grinned ear-to-ear. "Well I happen to know that she does in fact own at least one."

"How?!"

"_I_ didn't get into her pants if that's what you're thinking. It was a few days before Bill and Fleur's wedding and our little sister and the attractive brunette in question were going over what they were planning to wear to said wedding, when _all of a sudden_ - two hansom devils popped in to see if they'd be interested in trying out a new store product. That's when . . . Fred - he spotted Hermione's open trunk and caught sight of a most _interesting_ article of clothing and proceeded to ask if said article of clothing actually had a purpose other than for male viewing pleasure. Being the all knowing witch she was, she informed us that it did indeed have a more _useful _function, but told us that we should really ask Mum about that sort of thing because she might be more insightful with that subject than _she_ would."

"Oh Sweet Merlin, I hope not," Ron said cringing.

"Yeah, your girlfriend can be a bit of smart arse when she wants to be. Keep in mind, hers wasn't quite as lacy . . ." George examined the clothing in his hands, "or as transparent if I remember correctly."

Ron swallowed nervously; he could definitely picture Hermione in something like that. The only problem with that particular image was that it was now seemed to be burned into his mind permanently. "So . . . are you going to tell me whose that is or not?"

"_Well_ . . . I suppose I should. If I had to guess, I'd say they're from Verity."

Ron gave George a confused look. "Fred and Verity were . . . Really?"

"No, they never dated or had a one night stand as far as _I_ know, but that didn't stop him - or me, from flirting a bit."

Ron rolled his eyes and scanned the mass until a small note with achingly familiar handwriting caught his eye. The note was attached to an empty _Patented Daydream Charms _box. The note read:

_To (one of) the brother(s) I never had, _

_Thanks for the best daydream I've ever had and for teaching me the value of a well planned prank. I'll never forget you and, as a result, will miss you dearly. _

_Love, _

_The Devious Prefect._

A small smile tugged on Ron's lips as he finished the short note. He gestured George over and handed him the note and box. "_This_ is from Hermione."

George snorted and said, "_The Devious Prefect_. I suppose undermining the Ministry and committing treason count as a _devious_ acts or is there something you're not telling me?"

"No! . . . She used to be such a good, law-abiding girl before she got to know our family," Ron said with a small laugh.

"Yeah . . ." George was looking up at the store's window filled with displays of colorful boxes.

"You want 'a go inside?" Ron asked.

"Yeah." George started undoing the protection charms around the shop.

***

It took George nearly ten minutes to remove the charms and no time at all to put Ron to work cleaning and helping him take inventory. It was nearly dinner time before they took a break and walked to the Leaky Caldron for a quick drink before heading home for the night.

"So any thoughts about when you wanted to open the shop?" Ron asked after finishing his shot of Oden's Firewhiskey.

"Yep."

After George failed to elaborate, Ron continued, "Am I privy to that knowledge?"

George gave him a calculating look. "I can't run it alone and since you only managed to knock over two displays, I'd like to offer you the once in a lifetime opportunity to work with me at the shop as something like an assistant manager."

Ron sat there stunned for a moment. "Are you sure? 'cause I was sure you were going to hex my arse off after the second time."

George sighed dramatically. "As clumsy as you were . . . I'd like to think part of it was due to your fantasizing about your girlfriend in that semi-transparent thong. So I fully expect you to be far less clumsy when she gets back. Aside from that you didn't do _as_ horrific of a job as I thought you would today. . . . So do you want the job or not?"

". . . And the pay would be . . ."

"Non-negotiable."

"Sold!" Ron said theatrically enthusiastic. "So when are we opening the store?"

George drank the last of his shot. "When I finish cleaning out Fred's and my apartment."

Ron's smile slipped off his face. "Sounds like a plan, mate. Hey, we should probably get going or Mum will send someone to get us."

"Fine by me. Do you know what she's making?"

"Not a clue," Ron said as they made their way to the door. Just as Ron was reaching for the door, someone else pulled it open from outside.

"Angie!" George half shouted.

"George, it's so good to see you! Hi, Ron," said a surprised Angelina Johnson.

Ron's greeting was overshadowed by George, "What are you doing in this ghost town at this hour?"

Ron was quickly beginning to feel like a third wheel as the two friends conversed. "Hey George, I'm gonna head home. Did you want us to hold dinner for you?"

"No, just eat without me. Tell Mum I'll be home later," George said.

"It was nice seeing you again, Ron," Angelina called as George waved over his shoulder and led her into the bar.

Ron rolled his eyes as he stepped outside. _Maybe he is coping that well after all, _Ron thought as he Apparated home.

_That's it for chapter one. Feel free to let me know what you think (PLEASE! Don't make me beg.) Your comments are what makes it worth all of the hours of typing and editing (and writer's block)._


	2. Guilt and Gratitude

Guilt and Gratitude

_Thank you, thank you, thank you! to everyone who has left reviews; I really appreciate it. Also, thank you to everyone who has even bothered to read my story. I'll try my best to keep up with updates._

_Here is chapter 2. I added a bit of H/G to the mix, hope that's okay. The chapter starts were the last left off._

_Disclaimer: I am not JKR, nor do I make a profit off of this story._

_***_

Though Molly was worried about George, she left him alone and trusted that he'd be home soon enough. Dinner was a subdued affair that night as it had been since they had returned to the Burrow. Talk around the table revolved around the latest news from Arthur and Percy about the most recent arrests and sightings of former Death Eaters.

As Ron looked around the dinner table, he noticed it was quickly becoming roomier. Bill and Fleur were staying until the next evening, whereas Charlie wasn't leaving for another week. Harry was also staying with the Weasleys since he didn't really have anywhere else to go; the only downside was that they were all subjected to his many apologies for every reason imaginable until Ron and Hermione pulled him aside two days before and explained to him how annoying and unnecessary it was. As far as Harry's relationship with Ginny was concerned, Ron had no idea where it stood. The two were on speaking terms, but that seemed to be it.

Next to Ron sat Ginny. Ginny, being the youngest and the only girl to boot, had refused to show any emotion resembling sadness or grief in front of her family for nearly three days after the battle. Ron knew she was tough, but he had begun to worry about her. It wasn't until Hermione confided in him that she'd been up nearly every night with Ginny trying her best to comfort the younger woman when Ginny did finally breakdown that Ron's mind began to ease. But now that Hermione was gone, Ron wondered what his little sister would do.

Ginny would probably deal with the grief the same way he was currently now that Hermione was gone Ron reasoned. In other words, ignoring it for as long as possible. It wasn't that he was in denial. He'd lost a brother; Ron was now painfully aware of that thanks to Fred's funeral and Hermione's constant offers to listen to him ramble on about his emotions if he wanted or needed someone to talk to (which he still hadn't).

_Like she should talk_, Ron thought angrily as he played with his mash. Before he left, Hermione used to come to him nearly everyday to talk about anything, especially emotions and fears. Since he returned after Christmas however, Ron noticed a drastic change in the way she spoke to him. He expected her to be short with him for a while, but he figured that things would eventually get back to normal and that she would be open and straight forward with him again. Though the snappy attitude was gone, Hermione refused to talk about her problems or be comforted by him.

_. . . bloody well pretended that Malfoy Manor never happened_, he thought as he speared a piece of meat from his plate.

"So Ron, what did you and George do all day?" Bill asked.

Hiding his annoyance, Ron pulled himself out of his dark thoughts and back into the dinner conversation.

***

Three hours later found Ron upstairs lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His mood hadn't improved since dinner; he hadn't felt this angry and depressed since he last wore the possessed locket.

_Knock, knock! _Ron groaned and sat up. "_What?_"

The door opened and Ginny poked her head in. "_Well_ - I was going to ask you if you wanted to play exploding snap with us downstairs, but seeing as something has obviously crawled up you arse . . . maybe I won't."

Ron laid back down heavily, "I'm not in the mood. Play without me," he said flatly.

Ginny stood still for a moment deciding what to do. "You know, you're not the only one who misses her."

"Who?" he replied in a voice devoid of emotion.

Ginny scanned the room and picked up a discarded shirt off the floor and whipped it at Ron's head. "Oh, I don't know. . . . Who else has recently left? If this is how you've been treating her, it's no wonder Hermione was mad at you."

Ron glared up at his little sister. "What would you know about that? It's not like we were having rows downstairs in front of everyone."

"Though _you_ may find it hard to believe, _oh dear brother of mine_, we talk . . . _a lot _now that you lot are back. She talks to _me_ because _you_ won't talk to her."

Ron jumped to his feet in indignation. "_I _won't talk to _her_! What the _bloody_ hell do you think I've been trying to do for the past three days since she told us she was leaving?! She wouldn't talk to _me_!"

Ginny looked skeptical. "_Really_?"

Ron rolled his eyes and let out a low growl, "Yes! Every time I tried to talk to her about anything, she'd _suddenly_ remember that she had something important to pack or that she needed to go over that bloody counter spell for the one millionth time that day! She's been like this since - since . . ." Ron sat down heavily on his bed and stared at his hands. "I guess it is my effing fault in the end, isn't it?" he said bitterly.

Thoroughly confused, Ginny hesitantly sat down next to Ron. "Why is it your fault, Ron?" she asked softly.

Ron looked at her in sarcastic disbelief, "She hasn't told you? You two are _obviously_ such good friends, why wouldn't she tell _you_?"

Ginny bit back the anger that was beginning to bubble in the pit of her stomach. "I don't know anything other than what you three told us and Kingsley the day after the battle. Something big happened between you two didn't it?"

Ron stayed silent with a mask of anger and disgust. Ginny was about to get up and leave when he said, "I left them . . . we weren't _separated_, I walked out on Hermione and Harry after only a couple of months."

Ginny sat there stunned. She remembered being confused about the ambiguous way Hermione had explained how they got "separated" as she had put it. Ron _left_? "_Why_?" she demanded.

Ron didn't look up or seem to mind Ginny's snappish attitude. "Because I'm an effing git that couldn't hold a flame to either of them."

Growing more confused and worried than angry, Ginny said, "Wha - that doesn't make any sense, Ron!"

"We took turns wearing the locket, the thing with a bit of the bastard's soul in it, to keep it safe until we could destroy the bloody thing," he said, his voice bitter. "It messed with our minds and I let it get to me. I believed the stuff it made me think. . . . It wasn't hard since I'd been thinking it already. It - it told me that I was holding them back, that they didn't need me. So I left."

"But . . . you three . . . you - you just decided one day that you'd had enough and walked out on them?! You didn't tell them? Why didn't you explain it to them?!"

Ron stood up in a snap. "You have no effing idea what it's like to have him in your head like that -"

Ron was cut off by Ginny jumping to her feet with her wand drawn. "_I_ don't know what it's like?! How do you think I spent my entire first year at Hogwarts?! You made the same bloody mistake I did! You let him get too close to you and he started manipulating you! Damn it, Ron!" She turned and began to walk away when she turned back to Ron and asked, "Do they know the _real_ reason you left?"

Ron stared at his feet. "Harry does," he said quietly.

"Well that explains why Hermione won't talk to you," she said in a matter-of-fact way.

Ron sat back down and let his head fall into his hands, "I know."

Ginny sighed walked back over to Ron and sat down. "You know what the best thing about Hermione is?"

"I could think of a few," Ron said even quieter.

Ginny glanced over at him before she continued, "Even after I released a monster on to the school that nearly killed her, she still forgave me. I made her miss nearly half of her second year . . . all of that homework and all of those tests. . . . She had to spend most of her summer catching up on what she missed . . . and she still forgave me . . . and you know how seriously she takes her education."

Ron lifted his head out of his hands. "That wasn't your fault, Gin. You were literally possessed by him. . . . He was just whispering in my ear every-other day. I knew perfectly well what I was doing and I did it anyway. . . . I just - I can't get the sound of her begging me not to go out of my head . . . or the look on her face when I did leave," he finished in a whisper.

Ginny had never in her life seen her older brother look so broken. Sure he could be git at times, but he was good person at heart, she knew that. She placed her hand on his forearm. "Even after all that, you still went back to them. You were willing to face Hermione's wrath and everything. That has to count for something."

Much to Ginny's surprise, Ron's face contorted into a small smile. "You have no idea the _wrath_ that woman is capable of. I thank Merlin everyday that she didn't have her wand within reach at the time"

Ginny chuckled, "'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.'"

"What?"

"It's something Hermione told me once." Ginny paused for a moment, "There's no doubt in my mind that she will forgive you, Ron. You just need to help her understand what happened. Harry seems to have forgiven you after all."

Ron shook his head in annoyance. "I suppose it'd be hard to stay pissed at me since I did save his arse from drowning the night I did come back."

Ginny looked alarmed, "How - why was he _drowning_?!"

Ron smiled, "That's a story for another time."

"What else haven't you three told me?!" she asked angrily.

"Quite a bit. _But we'll tell you some of it soon,_" Ron added at the look Ginny was giving him. "We just figured that the ministry didn't need to know the minute details."

Ginny glared at Ron but dropped the subject. "So did you want to come downstairs and play snap or not?"

Ron shook his head. "I've got a lot to think about."

Ginny sighed and stood. "Okay."

"Hey, Gin?" Ron said as she turned to leave.

Ginny turned and was about to ask him what he wanted now when he engulfed her in tight hug. "Thanks, Gin," he said as he let go of her and messed up her hair.

Ginny rolled her eyes and straighten her hair, "Sure, just stop brooding alright? Only Harry gets to do that."

"Fair enough," he said as she left the room. Ron sat down at the small desk in the corner of his room and began writing down the mess of thoughts flying through his head.

***

"It's _about_ time! We tried waiting, but we figured you wouldn't mind if we started without you," George said as he discarded. George returned about the same time Ron retired to his room and, surprisingly, was only slightly intoxicated.

Ginny snickered. "Of course you did. Just admit it, you lot wanted to get a few rounds in before I came back and kicked all of your sorry arses," Ginny said as she walked into the sitting room.

"Well, there really isn't much else in the world more humiliating than losing to your baby sister at nearly every game of snap," Bill said with a chuckle. Beside him, Fleur rolled her eyes and smiled.

"We just started this round, so it'll be a while yet," Charlie said. "While you're up, why don't you get me a butter beer, Ginny?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow and pointedly sat next to Harry on the couch. "I'm not up anymore. Go get it yourself."

Harry tried to stifle his laugh as Charlie discarded and mumbled "_Women_" under his breath as he left the room.

Bill and Fleur discarded quickly; they were sharing a hand since Fleur was new to the game.

Next in line in the circle was Percy who was deep in thought; card games were never his strong suit.

"Is Ron coming down?" Harry asked Ginny.

"No, he's . . . he has a lot on his mind," she said slightly uncomfortably as she thought about what Ron had divulged to her.

"Is he alright?" Harry looked worried and ready to abandon the game to check on his friend.

Ginny was touched by Harry's concern for her brother, but knew better than to express it in front of her other brothers. "Yeah, he's trying to work some stuff out between him and Hermione I think."

Across the room, Ginny heard George snort with laughter. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure he's _trying to work out_ how to get to see Hermione in that thong."

Ginny pulled a face while Charlie chuckled as he walked back to his seat, "_That thong_ . . . Are you talking about the one you said the two of you found in front of the shop?"

Ginny and Fleur groaned in exasperation in unison.

"That's the one," George replied with a mischievous smirk.

"Merlin, you two! She hasn't even been gone twenty-four hours. If you lot are going to say stuff like that about her at least do it when she's around so she can hex the two of you," Ginny said.

"Oh come on, Gin. You know we're not that dumb. I don't think any of us wants to risk losing our bits for showing her a bit of cheek," Charlie said with a laugh.

"Agreed," George said.

"Zat es odd, I did not think cowardize ran in your family," Fleur chimed in.

"You call it cowardice, we call it common sense," George replied with a smile. "Come on, Percy. Just put a card down already!"

"_Fine._" Beside Percy on the couch was Harry. "Your play, Harry."

Ginny perched herself behind Harry and looked over his shoulder at his cards. "What do you think?" he asked Ginny pointing to a card in his hand.

Ginny pulled another face and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "It's no wonder you're terrible at this game. No, that would likely set Charlie up perfectly. Use this one," she whispered into his ear while pointing to a card to the right of Harry's first pick. Harry grinned and discarded.

"Hey, if you're giving out tips, I would greatly appreciate some," Percy said.

"Yeah, and get off of Harry," Charlie said deep in thought about his play.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I am not giving out tips, I'm simply helping the hopelessly lost. And since I'm comfortable and Harry doesn't seem to mind, I think I'll just stay here."

"Is that true, Harry? Do you not mind Ginny hanging off of you like a ball and chain?" George asked.

Harry's face reddened at the attention being drawn to himself and Ginny. "Uhh . . . I'm fine and if Ginny's comfortable then - um . . . I'm just going to stop talking."

"That would probably be a good idea," Bill said holding back his laughter.

As the laughter at Harry's expense died down and the game moved along, Ginny gave Harry's shoulders a squeeze. "How about after this game we go take a walk?"

Harry turned slightly to see her better. "Your parents said that we were to stay inside until they got back from Mrs. Tonk's."

Ginny smiled and tried not to show her nervousness about having Harry's face so close to her own. "They're due back any minute. Even if they're not back by the end of the game, I'm sure they wouldn't be angry if we just go out to the porch for some fresh air."

"Sounds good to me," he said simply. In less than ten minutes, and with quite a bit of Ginny's help, Harry won the round. The two headed outside midway through one of Charlie's warnings regarding his the definition of _appropriate_ behavior.

"Charlie is such a hypocrite," Ginny said with a smile as she and Harry leaned against the porch railing and watched what was left of the sunset. "I can't even begin to count the number of _conquest_ stories he's told that lot just this last summer alone."

"I was wondering about that myself, but I figured your brothers had me out numbered so I decided to just keep my mouth shut," Harry said with a grin.

"The boy-who-lived-twice, afraid to take on my brothers?" Ginny asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"Part of be being the boy-who-survived-this-long is picking and choosing your fights carefully. . . . That and all of your brothers are quite a bit bigger than me."

"I suppose you do have a point there." They fell into a light silence listening to the birds, bugs, and the occasional cursing gnome.

Ginny felt at ease for the first time since her friend's departure that morning and cringed slightly when Harry reminded her of why she brought him out to the porch in the first place.

"So am I allowed to know what you and Ron talked about up there for so long or was it one of those brother-sister sort of talks?"

Ginny nodded and thought best about how to convey her worries about Ron. "To put it lightly, if there had been a contest to see who looked the most guilt-ridden and it was between you and Percy right after the battle and Ron about half an hour ago, I'm pretty sure Ron would have won."

Harry looked confused, "You said he was working out things between him and Hermione . . ."

"You've noticed how it kind of seemed like they were avoiding each other the past couple of days, right?"

"Um . . ."

"Just take my word for it then. Hermione told me that Ron refused to talk to her, which Ron claims is backwards, that Hermione was the one who wouldn't talk to him-"

"Wait a second, are we talking about emotions and the like or not talking to each other period?"

"I'm thinking 'emotions and the like' sort of topics personally seeing as they seemed to do small talk just fine at meals, but I guess I just assumed that was the issue." Ginny took a deep breath and plowed on, "Anyway, Ron was pretty worked up and then he just . . . just gave up and said that it was probably his fault anyway."

"How'd he figure that one?" Harry asked uneasily; he had a good idea where this was going.

"He said it was because he left you and Hermione, that you three weren't _separated_, but that he left even though Hermione begged him not to," Ginny finished in a pleading voice as if begging Harry to contradict her.

"Did he tell you why he left?" Harry asked unable to meet her eyes.

"He said it was because of the locket and his own stupidity."

Harry shook his head sadly. "That was part of it, but he left out the part where I told him to leave."

Ginny pushed herself off of the railing and whispered in disbelief, "_What?_"

Harry stared at his hands. "Ron and I got into an argument the night he left. . . . We had no idea what we were doing out there other than starving and freezing to death and we were at a dead end. . . . I'd see him and Hermione talking together and stop the moment I'd walk into the room. . . . I figured it was only a matter of time before they'd say they'd had enough and leave. . . . So when Ron said what he and Hermione had been talking about, that they thought I would have had a better idea about what I was doing, that this wasn't what they'd signed up for . . . I snapped. I was a git and insulted him and we even drew our wands and would have dueled right there in the tent if Hermione hadn't put up a shield charm between us. . . . I told him to leave the locket and go and he did."

Ginny stood in stunned silence for a moment before asking, "What about Hermione? Ron said he left you _and_ her. . . . If they were both thinking about leaving then why did she stay?"

Harry shook his head. "I'll never know just why she stayed. Ron asked her point blank before he left if she was staying and she said that they had made a promise to help me and that she wasn't going to leave. . . . The whole time she was trying to stop the fight, trying to get Ron and me to calm down and be reasonable. . . . Ron thought - he thought that Hermione was staying because there was something between us, that she loved me and not him. He said, 'I get it, you chose him.' and left. . . . As much as it hurt to have Ron turn his back on me, there's no doubt in my mind that it hurt Hermione more. She chased him into the pouring rain . . . came back drenched and said he Disapparated and curled up in a chair and cried." Harry stopped as the emotions of that night resurged with vengeance.

Ginny walked back to the railing and stood next to Harry. "Ron doesn't blame you for what happened you know."

Harry shook his head. "Doesn't matter, I blame myself . . . for a lot of things actually. . . . Ouch! What was that for?" Harry asked while rubbing the shoulder Ginny hit.

"That was for feeling sorry for yourself! You're just as bad as Ron you know . . . both of you feel guilty for stuff that happened during the war, but neither of you wants to talk about it to anyone!"

"It's hard, okay? When you go from worrying constantly if you're going to live to see the next day to being safe and well fed and . . . practically carefree, it takes a while to adjust," he finished quietly.

Ginny leaned forward and took his hand in hers. "That's fine, but when you do need someone to talk to, know that we're here for you . . . I'm here for you."

Harry looked over and gave her a small smile and nodded. He reached out and tucked a loose lock of hair behind Ginny's ear. "You have no idea how many times I just wanted to Apparate to Hogwarts or where ever you were just to see you, make sure you were alright," he said softly.

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea. . . . Every time you'd been sighted, we'd all get excited even though it meant that you'd almost been caught. At least we knew you were still alive and fighting."

They stayed silent, each simply enjoying each others touch and closeness. There were so many things Harry wanted to say, but couldn't find the words to express the love and gratitude he felt towards her. They were soon interrupted however, by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's return. "Good evening, dears. Is everything okay in there?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

Ginny nodded, "Most of them are playing cards. . . . How is Mrs. Tonks?"

"The poor dear is holding up very well all things considered. Teddy keeps her busy enough. We've invited them both to dinner tomorrow," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Don't stay out here too late," Mr. Weasley said as he and his wife entered the Burrow, "and don't stray too far from the house."

"We won't, Mr. Weasley," Harry said.

"We should probably head in," Ginny said after her parents shut the door.

Harry nodded, but grabbed hold of her hand again. "Thanks for . . . well, talking to me and Ron and listening and helping us get our heads out of our arses I guess."

"Anytime," she said with a smile. "Just . . . you can talk to me anytime, but you might want to talk to Ron about some of this stuff too, you know? I think it would help both of you."

Harry nodded. "I will," he said before pulling her into hug.

Ginny smiled and enjoyed a closeness that they hadn't shared in many months. She meant to lead him back inside, to step away from him after the hug and give him a peck on the cheek, but as she stared into his eyes as they drew apart she felt a bolt of electricity flow through her veins . . . and there was no mistaking that Harry felt it too. Without thinking and without hesitation, she gently pulled his face to hers and brought their lips together.

Euphoria engulfed Harry as he threaded a hand through her hair. She was the reason he fought, she was what kept him going when he wanted to give up. He was willing to go through hell just to be near her and being able to hold her in his arms felt better than any heaven he could ever imagine.

As they drew apart, both smiled shyly at the other before breaking out into laughter. "I missed doing that," Harry said with a grin.

"I did, too. Now come on, we should get inside before they send someone to look for us," Ginny said as she tried to pull Harry to the door. Instead he pulled her back to him and into one last kiss.

"Okay, now we can go," he said with a grin.

_***_

_That's it for now. Chapter three is Hermione's POV. Thanks for reading and as always feel free to let me know what you think._


	3. Brawls and Bullets

_Chapter three. This one's a bit darker and heavier on the action and lighter on the dialog as the title hints at. Enjoy!_

Hermione felt an intense sense of relief as she walked out of the airplane for the last time into the Sydney airport. After losing over a day and a half to the length of the flight, several time zone changes, and a several hour delay in Bangkok, she was ready to swear off flying for good. Her conversation with Kingsley earlier that week reminded her why she was flying rather than using a porkey or utilizing the ministry's international apparation system as she walked to the baggage pick-up carousal. Many countries, Australia included, had severed ties with the Britain's Ministry of Magic after the curious circumstances leading up to former-Minister Scrimgeour's "resignation" and the blatant discrimination put into effect shortly after. As of yesterday, the majority of the ties severed still remained severed.

_Which is understandable since Voldamort was only disposed of just over a week ago_, she thought as she carried her suitcase to the nearest loo. It had been an annoyance having the extra bit of luggage, but Hermione figured it would have looked a bit odd if she showed up to the luggage check-in with only her beaded bag. After cramming the larger bag into the smaller one and splashing a bit out water on her face, Hermione navigated her way to customs and to the main entrance of the massive structure.

The late summer afternoon air hit her like an oven. Having gotten directions to the nearest bus stop, she walked quickly through the surprisingly warm air while removing her coat. Unfortunately, the bus was packed and even warmer; after several blocks Hermione had had enough and got off at the nearest stop.

As she shed another layer of clothing, she contemplated her next plan of action. All of her energy and planning had been put into just making it to Sydney - she didn't even know if her parents were here. She walked up a block and entered an aging diner as a roar of thunder reverberated through the humid air.

Delicious aromas assaulted Hermione's senses as she walked to the counter, reminding her that she'd only had three small meals supplied by the airplane stewardesses since she left the Weasleys. After ordering the largest (and very likely the greasiest) meal off of the menu, she took a seat at the counter and glanced around. Being in between lunch and dinner, the diner was hardly crowded. What looked like a mother and daughter were seated at a table near the counter waiting for their meals; the woman was scanning the classifieds while the little girl was doodling on a discarded section of the newspaper. An older couple were seated next to the window chatting over coffee and empty plates and three men were crowed around a small table toward the back of the restaurant.

As the waitress made her rounds again, Hermione flagged her down for a refill of her soda and a telephone directory. Flipping to the business portion, Hermione began searching the long list of dental offices for one likely to employ her parents. By the time her food arrived, she had given up on finding one on the basis of name alone and had begun looking for a place to stay for the night.

Though the meal was nowhere near as good as one of Molly Weasley's, it was edible enough for Hermione to scarf down half of it in less than five minutes.

"Do I know you?" Hermione turned saw one of the men from the back of the restaurant staring at her while he waited for the waitress to refill his drink.

"No," she replied simply and returned to her meal.

"Well that's a shame 'cause I sure would like to," he said with a cheesy smirk.

Hermione arched an eyebrow and looked the man over. He was maybe in his mid-20s and looked like he'd spent most of his life outside under the midday sun. Though appealingly built, the man exuded cockiness and a bit of body odor. "I'm afraid that wouldn't be possible."

The waitress handed the man his drink, "Thank-you, ma'am," he said to her. "And why ever not, miss?" he asked Hermione.

"I'm in Sydney on business."

He was about to speak again when his attention was drawn to the group of men that had just entered the diner. "You and me both," he said as he flashed a smile and followed the group to his table.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and went back to her meal. She suppressed a shudder as the night of Bill's and Fleur's wedding surfaced in her memory. _There's no reason to worry . . . He wasn't drunk and I'm not being hunted by Death Eaters . . . I think._ Hermione chanced a glance at group of men. All were standing and all were glaring at each other; two of the men were detached from either group and were conversing a short ways a way. Hermione pushed back the foreboding feeling trapped in her chest and returned to her meal.

There was a moment, not long after, when the diner seemed completely void of sound, when the whole restaurant would have heard the sound of a pin dropping . . . or the crack of a single gun shot.

Hermione turned at the sound and saw that the back of the diner had become a violent free-for-all. Both groups of men were wrestling, fighting, and knocking over tables and chairs. Hermione spun back around and was going to make a dash for the door along with the other patrons and the waitress when she realized the mother and daughter hadn't moved towards the exit. Dread weighed heavily in the pit of her stomach as she neared them and saw the look of agony on the woman's face as the little girl tried to pull her out of her chair.

"Mummy, Mum I'm scared!" the girl cried, not understanding why her mother wasn't moving. Hermione glanced at the woman's back and saw why; blood was blossoming from a small wound in her upper back.

Hermione crouched down next to the girl, "We have to go, sweetie."

Tears ran down the girl's cheeks, "Mum, come on!"

The woman opened her eyes and stroked the girl's face. "Go with the nice lady, Maggie. I'll be right behind you," she choked out. "Please take her and go," she whispered to Hermione.

Hermione nodded and scooped the little girl up in her arms. She made her way quickly to the door, trying desperately to ignore the girls cries of protest and pleas for her mother. She carried the girl through the light rain and across the street to a grocery store. Inside they were greeted by the older couple from the diner.

"My god, are you alright?" the woman asked upon hearing Maggie's cries.

Hermione nodded and set the girl down took her face in her hands. "Maggie, Maggie! Sweetie, I'm going to go get your mother, okay? I need you to stay here with these nice people, until I get back with your mum, okay? Do you understand, Maggie?" she said with a shaky voice.

The little girl nodded. "I want my mum!" she cried.

"I'll bring her to you, I promise," Hermione said standing up. She looked to the older woman. "Make sure she stays here."

The woman nodded and knelt down next to the girl. As Hermione headed for the door, she felt someone latch on to her arm tightly. She turned and saw the older gentleman. "You can't go back in there. You'll get yourself killed! Let the cops and paramedics handle it," he said.

Hermione shook her head, "That little girl's mother will have bled to death by then."

With pain evident in his face, the man released Hermione and watched her race out the door back to the diner through the late summer rain.

Shaking like mad, Hermione cracked open the door to the diner and surveyed the scene. Two of the men had disappeared while four others were wrestling on the ground. The injured woman had collapsed at about the end of the counter. Staying low to the ground and moving quickly, Hermione reached the woman and dragged her behind the counter to safety.

The woman gave a strangled cry of pain from being moved and looked up at Hermione. "Where's Maggie? Is she okay?" the woman weakly sobbed.

"She's across the street . . . She's waiting for me to bring you to her," Hermione whispered. The woman began sobbing quietly. There was little doubt in Hermione's mind the woman would go into shock soon if she hadn't already; blood had already drenched the entirety of the woman's back.

Pulling out her wand, Hermione began trying to remember the order of spells needed to heal a wound like the one in front of her. Her mind was chaotic as random spells from text books and others she'd learned while helping in the hospital wing after battle flew about her head. Her hands were shaking and she couldn't concentrate. _Come on! Think! You have to do this soon or she'll bleed to death! _She suppressed a sob. _I need Ron . . ._ In that moment it was almost as if she could feel his arms around her; she felt her heart rate slow and her breathing even as the spells aligned themselves in her mind.

"This is going to hurt, Ma'am. I need you to stay with me. . . . Tell me about your daughter," Hermione said as she pointed her wand at the woman's back and muttered the first spell.

The woman gave a cry of pain as another table was toppled over. "Sh-she's four. . . . M-Maggie . . . Ahhh!" The bullet was out and the wound was clean.

"Stay with me. What's Maggie's favorite food?" Hermione asked calmly as she began healing the wound.

"Any-anything . . . with cheese." The woman's voice was growing faint and weaker by the second.

"What's your name, Ma'am?" Hermione was nearly done.

"My name? . . . Sarah."

"Where are you from, Sarah?" Hermione asked as she repaired the damaged nerves before closing the wound. "Sarah, where are you from?" she asked again when she didn't answer.

"From here . . . suburbs . . ." she muttered. Hermione had finished and was quickly double checking her work. Satisfied, she rolled the woman over and gently patted Sarah's face trying to keep her lucid.

"It's time to go see your daughter, ready?" Sarah gave her a weak nod. Hermione poked her head around the corner of the counter. One man was beating another senseless while two more were still wrestling on the linoleum floor. Not wanting to stick around and become hostages, Hermione put her wand away and dragged the older woman to her feet. Together, with Hermione supporting most of Sarah's weight, they began their journey to the door.

They were half way to the door when Hermione saw another man burst into the room from the kitchen out of the corner of her eye. The man who had flirted with her earlier was making a mad dash for the same exit the women were. He was nearly to the door when another man entered the room from the kitchen and unloaded three rounds at the fleeing man.

None of the bullets met their mark. Though all three impaled the far wall, one did so only after grazing Hermione's shoulder.

The pain wasn't immediate, but the force of the bullet threw Hermione off balance and into the edge of a nearby table. As pain exploded in her lower back where she had hit the table, so did pain in her shoulder. Vision blurred slightly, Hermione gritted her teeth and staggered out the door and into the rain while still supporting Sarah.

The rain was both a relief and agony. Rain meant they had made it out of the diner alive, that they were home free. The rain was also served as a reminder; the droplets of water stung Hermione's open shoulder, reminding her that not only was she still alive, but that she was also injured.

The old man met them half way across the street and helped Hermione half drag, half carry the woman to the safety of the grocery store.

Feeling soaked and in pain, Hermione allowed another man she assumed was the store's cashier to take the woman. Clutching her left shoulder, Hermione watched as the little girl hugged her mother tightly after being laid gently on to the floor. The sound of her daughter's voice seemed to be the only thing keeping Sarah conscious as she sat on the ground with Maggie cradled in her arms.

"_What the bloody hell_?" Hermione heard the older woman whisper. She looked up at Hermione. "I thought you said she'd been shot."

"She was," Hermione panted.

"There is blood all over her shirt, but I don't see a wound," the woman stated confused. "Whose blood is this?"

"Hers." Hermione stared out the store window back at the diner. She was in trouble now, these people knew something weird was up and she couldn't think of a way to explain it to them. A small group of men and women dressed in low-end suits were quickly making their way toward the diner. At the door the group split up, two towards the grocery store and three into the diner. The three entering the diner drew thin twigs from their pockets.

"You're injured," the old man said softly to Hermione.

Hermione felt her whole body tremble as she watched the official looking witch and wizard approach the store. "I'm fine," she said shortly. "Is there a way out the back?" she asked the cashier.

He nodded distractedly. "Past the produce counter. Hey, where are you going?!" he shouted as Hermione took off through the store.

Fear had a death grip on her heart as Hermione sped out into the rain. She had little doubt that they were from the Australian Ministry, that they weren't dirty like the British ministry before Riddle's fall. Then why run? Logically, Hermione knew it didn't make sense; why did she think they would spare the muggles and not her? Personal experience and hope. Her fears and logic had crashed head long and had make a compromise; the muggles would be fine, you won't, run for it. So she did. Half way down the alley, she heard the back door to the grocery store open.

"Stop!" came the shout just audible over the roar of thunder that reverberated and echoed through the narrow street.

Hermione spotted a fire escape along the side of a building at the end of the alley. Without a second thought she Disappartated.

For a split second, everything was silent again and the pain was gone. Then she emerged out of thin air at the top of the fire escape.

Hermione barely held in her cry of agony; she felt as if her shoulder had been ripped open farther. Trying not to slip or aggravate her shoulder more, Hermione climbed to the roof of the building, all the while praying she hadn't been seen. Hermione collapsed onto her back onto the rooftop as she tried to control her racing heart and steady her hand to heal her wound; above her, the sky lit up with a web of lightning.

_Pop!_ Hermione rolled to her stomach and crouched as close to the ledge as possible. She could see no one, but she could hear the sounds of someone mounting the fire escape ladder to the roof of the building. Suddenly the creaking of the ladder stopped and Hermione felt an all too familiar swoop in her stomach; whoever it was had cast a human presence revealing charm.

Knowing that her cover was blown, Hermione waited for her pursuer to appear hoping to at least be able use the element of surprise to her advantage. Her pursuer waited for the next crack of thunder to make his move; the thunder masked the sound of his ascent up the ladder, but not his sudden appearance onto the rooftop.

Hermione threw two quick stunners at the wizard only to have them deflected and sent back at her. Kicking off from the side of the ledge, she threw herself out of the way and onto her feet. The man was firing hexes and spells at such a rapid rate, Hermione was forced to take shelter behind a door to a roof access stairwell.

Trembling and terrified, Hermione weighed her options. She could stay and fight and most likely be captured or killed or she could try to Apparate again and risk splicing herself or passing out from the pain. Her pursuer made the decision easy by rounding the corner and firing a stunner. Hermione ducked and charged the wizard. Expecting Hermione to run rather than fight, the wizard was thrown off balance by her first stunner, tripped up by the second, and disarmed by the third.

Both remained still for a moment, each trying to catch their breaths. Hermione stood over the wizard, both his wand and hers in hand. She was stumped; if the man was with the ministry, stunning the unarmed wizard would lead to hefty consequences if she was caught. Nor could she stay on the roof top with him, not while she was still injured.

Seeing no other option left, she took action. "Put your hands on your head and get on your knees," she said with a shaky voice.

The wizard's movements were slow and deliberate. "Your making a huge mistake, lady -"

Hermione cut him off, "It wouldn't be my first."

"I can help you. Just put the wands down," he said as if talking to a small child.

Hermione threw the wizard's wand over the edge of the rooftop. "I don't want your help. I want to be left alone." Hermione took a deep, calming breath. "Keep your hands on your head and put your nose to the ground. Now!" she yelled when he didn't move.

After the man had moved, Hermione did a quick look around and made her decision. "I'm sorry," she said to the man.

The wizard lunged at her before she had finished her sentence, but it didn't matter. She was nearly half a kilometer away before he had traveled half the distance that had spanned between them.

Four rooftops away, Hermione dropped to her knees in blinding pain, clutching her left shoulder. A cry of pain ripped through her throat as tears stung her eyes. Stars erupted behind her tightly closed lids as she struggled to fight off nausea and a sudden bout of dizziness. She could not risk Apparating again.

Hermione crawled to the ledge of the building and sat with her back against it. She could no longer tell if her uncontrollable shaking was due to fear, exhaustion, or cold . . . nor did she really care. What she did know was that if she didn't heal her shoulder soon, the Australian Ministry and Death Eaters would be the least of her worries.

Hermione never heard the first _pop_ or the second; the rain had picked up to a steady downpour. She didn't hear the witch and wizard split up and quietly box her in. All she heard was the rain.

***

Auror Lynn waited and watched for Auror Andrews' signal. To say that she was surprised to see that their fugitive was the scrawny (and injured) young woman in front of her would have been an understatement. She knew Andrews was an excellent auror and that few were able to elude him. She also knew he was a proud man and that he wouldn't rest until he'd caught the woman.

Seeing his signal, Lynn gave hers and waited less than a second longer before firing a stunner.

It was as if the woman had known Lynn's and Andrews' stunners were coming. The woman threw herself forward and scurried to her feet before their spells even came close to her. Lynn fired stunner after stunner at the young woman, but all were either blocked or dodged. As woman neared the opposite end of the rooftop, Andrews appeared (seemingly out of nowhere) and blindsided her, not with a spell, but with a rugby-tackle.

Lynn watched in surprise as the two fell to the ground in a heap. The woman didn't put up a fight; her face was screwed up in agony and a silent scream (Andrews likely knocked the wind out of her). With ease, Andrews rolled her to her stomach and manually disarmed the woman before cuffing her. "Stunning her would have been just _too_ easy wouldn't it?" Lynn asked sarcastically.

Andrews placed a knee on the woman's back and looked up. "You saw how she reacted to magic. This kid has a sixth sense when it comes to avoiding spells even if she's not very good at dishing them out. I figured she wouldn't expect a physical attack and I was right," he finished triumphantly.

"She could've killed you . . . _I_ could have stunned you. A little heads-up next time would be appreciated."

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Lynn. If she was going to kill me she'd have done so when she had me on the last roof. As for you stunning me . . . you're a pretty good shot. I never pictured it as a possibility," he said, flashing a grin before pulling the woman to her feet.

Lynn walked forward and examined the fugitive. The wound on her shoulder was shallow, but still bleeding. "We need to get her to Lou's before we question her."

"Whatever you say, Lynn." With a _pop_ they were gone.

_That's it for chapter three. Thanks for reading and as always, reviews are greatly appreciated. _


	4. Confessions and Confusion

A moment later the three were standing in the lobby of the Louis Jacobson Center for Healing. . . . Well, two of them were standing. The moment they arrived, the young woman's knees gave out; she would have fallen to the floor if Andrews hadn't had a tight grip on her upper arm. "On your feet," he said to her impatiently.

"Ease off a bit, Andrews," Lynn said while helping the woman back to her feet. The woman's jaw was clenched against obvious pain as tears ran down her face. "Beth, is Healer Varela available?" she asked the receptionist.

The older woman nodded. "Take your lot to 117. Jen will be with you in a few minutes."

Lynn gave a nod of thanks and followed Andrews and the fugitive out of the lobby. Room 117 was a room specially designed for the treatment of criminals and other flight risks. The walls and door were thicker than normal and equipped with charms to prevent Apparation of humans and elves.

Roughly, Andrews led the young woman into the room and to the examination table. "Sit. . . . Now," he said in a low growl. Lynn watched as the woman gave Andrews a look of pure loathing before gingerly sitting. Andrews quickly cuffed her to the table.

"The two of you seem to know just which buttons to push to piss each other off," Lynn said before casting drying charms on the three of them.

Andrews muttered a low "shut it" while the woman gave a spasm of pain. The charm had dried not only the water from the rain, but also the blood in her wound.

"Should I start this or did you want the honor?" Lynn asked her colleague.

He shook his head and slouched in his chair. "She's all yours."

Lynn pulled out a pad of paper and pen and stood in front of the woman. "Okay, let's start from the top. What's your name?" The younger woman stared up at the auror confused.

Lynn turned back to Andrews. "Does she not speak English?"

The older auror snorted. "Oh, I'm pretty sure she does. She may not be the full quid, but she knew enough when she had her wand on me."

Turning back, Lynn asked again, "What is your name?" The young woman looked away and remained silent.

Andrews stood up and stooped to eye level with the woman. "My friend asked you nicely. You'll tell her your name unless you'd rather I took over asking the questions." The woman bared her clenched teeth, but stayed silent.

"G'day, what have you got for me today?" Healer Varela asked entering the room.

Andrews straightened. "An uncooperative shelia who's lost her tongue."

"Not literally I hope," the healer said while sizing her patient up. "And this would from . . . ?" she said pointing to the young woman's left shoulder.

"Witnesses claim it's a bullet wound, but none saw it happen," Lynn said checking her notes.

"And these?" the healer asked pointing to the scrapes running the length of the same arm.

"Those would be from me," Andrews said with a hint of pride.

Varela rolled her eyes. "What'd she do? Give you a single-fingered salute?"

"Nah . . . she thought it'd be good fun to take my wand and throw it off a rooftop while making me get on my knees."

"My goodness, we have a feisty little dingo on our hands, don't we?" Andrews snorted and sat back down. Lynn circled around to watch the healer work her magic. "I don't suppose we have a name for her . . ." the healer asked.

"No, but I could think of a few I'd like to give her," Andrews said with a smile.

Eye-roll number two. "Alright then. You'll want to sit still, miss," she said to the patient before drawing her wand.

The woman's response was immediate: her thin frame shook violently and her body tensed. Varela and Lynn shared a look of worry before Varela cleaned the wound. The woman gave low groan of pain and remained tense as she continued to shake.

"The thing about healing wounds with magic," the healer said to no one in particular, "is that it often leaves scars that wouldn't have otherwise formed. The trick is not healing the injury all of the way and letting it heal the last bit naturally."

"So you're going to leave it like that?" Lynn asked when Varela stopped.

The healer nodded as she retrieved a strip of gauze. "That little scratch will heal up in a week without leaving much of a mark. She already seems to have a good collection of scars going. I don't think she needs to add to it," she said gesturing to the woman's hands.

Lynn took a closer look and saw what Varela was talking about; the woman's hands and forearms were spotted with pale scars, most looking fairly new. "What have you been up to?" Lynn asked in wonder. The young woman refused to make eye-contact and stared at the floor.

"The scarps aren't life threatening," Varela said. "They just need a quick cleaning." The woman inhaled sharply as the spell was cast. "Why were you two after her?" she asked while checking for any more serious injuries.

Another check of her notes, "We received a report of magic performed on a muggle within city limits. A fight broke out in a small restaurant, shots fired. A muggle was hit . . . um - upper back, quite a bit of blood. Our dingo here was in said restaurant when the fight broke out and aided said muggle's child to safety before re-entering the restaurant and performing several healing charms on the muggle. Our dingo was shot while aiding the muggle to safety and fled on foot shortly after completing her task. Andrews pursued and I called Andersen to help assess the muggle's condition and help with memory modification. The muggle and her child were taken here and I aided Andrews in tracking our wounded dingo."

"And somewhere along the line, Dingo disarmed Andrews and had him on his knees," Varela said with a small smile. "Doesn't exactly sound like she's a career criminal."

Lynn shook her head. "No idea why she won't talk to us."

Andrews stood. "Give her time, a night in a cell should loosen her tongue. If you're done, I'd like to get going. There's still a chance I can get home on time tonight."

"I'm finished, but I would like a word with Auror Lynn."

"Go on, I'll catch up," Lynn said.

After Andrews and the dingo left the room, Lynn spoke up, "What do you think, Jen? Runaway, abused, maybe a refugee?"

Varela shook her head sadly, "I can't tell for sure, but I'm leaning towards refugee. She can't be from around here if she took off on foot. You saw the way she flinched every time I pointed my wand at her. . . . She's probably been on the bizzo end of some pretty bad curses."

Lynn nodded, "My thoughts exactly. Plus, how many wizards or witches would throw themselves back into danger like that without a second thought, for a muggle no less?"

Varela sighed tiredly, "Not enough, make sure Ryan doesn't try his intimidation thing on her . . . that's probably the last thing that'll get her talking."

"He's just pissed off that she got him good, but I'll see what I can do. Thanks for your help, Jen."

"No wuckers. . . . Oh - Kat, we up for drinks tonight?"

"You bet," Lynn said before running to catch up with Andrews.

***

She caught up with him at the ministry. Their fugitive was already in an interrogation room and Andrews was going through the woman's belongings. "'Bout time. What did Varela think?"

"Refugee, so I won't recommend trying to scare her into talking. Odds are she been through worse than what you can legally dish-out."

"Is that your opinion, too?"

Lynn nodded, "That's what the signs point to. And you?"

"Same. I just can't get this bloody bag open!" Andrews hissed in irritation. "The bloody thing probably has all of her identification. I'm more than a little tempted to send it to the curse-breakers downstairs."

"New wand," Lynn said examining the thin piece of wood. "I'm going to have a talk with our young friend."

"Go right ahead."

Lynn turned and nearly ran headlong into Minister Rudman. "Excuse me, Minister."

"Quite alright. Just wanted to remind you two about the meeting tomorrow morning, don't be late," he said before taking a peak at their fugitive through the one-way glass. "Peaky little thing isn't she? Is that the gal that gave the two of you the run-around?"

"Yes, sir," Andrew said rather grudgingly.

Lynn wasn't listening, but was suddenly fascinated by the newspaper the minister was holding. "Sir, may see that for a moment?" she said gesturing towards the paper.

A bit bemused the minister surrendered his newspaper. "I do want it back, I haven't had a chance to read it yet."

Lynn nodded, but didn't actually hear him. She was far more interested in the picture on the front page. Everyday that week, the same three teens (along with a few others) had been plastered front and center in the paper for taking down (nearly single handedly) one of the most infamous terrorist groups in the world.

Lynn's mouth went dry as she stared at their fugitive and the young woman pictured between two young men, one spotted with too many freckles and the other sporting an oddly shaped scar on his forehead. Lynn handed the paper to Andrews. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me we didn't just arrest one Britain's youngest war heroes."

***

Hermione let out a tired sigh. She was in serious trouble . . . no, scratch that - she was in gigantic trouble. _I shouldn't have ran. I should have just stayed with the muggles. What the _hell _was I thinking? . . . Oh, wait. I _wasn't _thinking, that's right._ Without the blinding pain in her shoulder, Hermione was able to think clearly for the first time since leaving the diner. _They obviously aren't Death Eaters, even if the bloke is a right git. I'm not going to get out of here unless I start answering their questions. . . ._ The door opened and the witch that helped chased her down walked into the room. The auror didn't say a word, but set a newspaper in front of her . . . front page up.

Hermione felt her face drain of blood. Staring back up at her was a picture of herself with Ron and Harry from their sixth year. She felt tears sting her eyes as she remembered that day. It was one of the first weeks back at Hogwarts . . . just after the Quidich trials . . . taken by Colin.

Tearing her eyes away from the picture, Hermione looked up at the auror who was staring at her with a mixture of awe and confusion. "They forgot to credit the photographer," Hermione said quietly.

The auror sat done in front of Hermione. "Do you know the photographer?" she asked softly.

Hermione nodded. "Colin Creevey. . . . He was too brave for his own good," Hermione paused and took a shaky breath. "He wasn't of age, but still fought the last battle. . . . He was only sixteen."

The auror reached across the table and placed a comforting hand on Hermione's uninjured arm. "We're not going to hurt you. We just need clear up some details about the incident at the restaurant. I'm Catherine Lynn. I'm an auror with the Sydney Ministry of Magic."

Hermione nodded again. "Hermione Granger. . . . member of the 'Golden Trio, the mudblood third,'" she said with small smile.

Lynn sat stunned for a moment at what Hermione had said before jotting down the young woman's name. "That's an odd way to introduce yourself."

Hermione smiled, "Two thirds bloodtraitors, one third mudblood, boiled down that's who we are. The words lost their meanings years ago. . . . They're really more like compliments now."

"That makes sense, I guess. Let's start from the top. What happened in the restaurant?"

It took five minutes and a few pauses, but Hermione was able to retell the events accurately. They sat in silence for a moment while Auror Lynn finished scrawling on her notebook. "Other than for disarming your partner, why was I arrested?" Hermione asked.

Lynn looked up, "We've had some trouble with our citizens attacking muggles for sport in the last few years. . . . Last fall, three muggles died as a result of a wizard's _practical joke_. The wizard is spending the rest of his existence in prison of course and the whole thing was passed off as a home invasion gone wrong.

"Since the incidence, aurors have been required by law to check on any incident within the city limits involving magic preformed on muggles. Standard procedure usually involves bringing in the perp. for questioning and issuing a fine if needed. Your situation is a bit different since you were aiding a muggle in a rather life-threatening situation." Lynn hesitated for a moment, "Just as a point of curiosity, why did you run?"

Hermione looked down at her hands and shook her head. "I have no idea. After nearly a year of running from the British ministry and Death Eaters, I guess I just assumed things would be like that everywhere. That and being shot. . . . It's not easy to think straight after you've been shot."

"I hear you on that," Lynn said with a smile. "Other than fleeing from an auror and resisting detainment, you haven't _really _done anything wrong. I'll talk over the situation with my partner and a few other official folks and figure out what we're going to do with you. Sit tight, I'll be back in a bit."

Hermione nodded and watched the auror leave.

***

Lynn closed the door behind her, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "Well done, couldn't have done better myself."

Lynn opened her eyes. The minister and Andrews were walking towards her. "Thank you, Minister."

"What are you talking about? She didn't even have to say anything to the girl to get her talking," Andrews said sarcastically.

Lynn rolled her eyes. "I have a feeling she'd have talked to anyone that wasn't you, Ryan, seeing as you're the one who roughed her up."

Andrews was about to retort, but Minister Rudman cut him off. "It doesn't matter. We know who she is and the circumstances surrounding the incident. That's what matters. I would like to speak to her before she is released if you two don't mind."

Andrews snorted, "I suppose we don't really have any reason to hold her, do we?"

"No we don't," the minister said seriously. "However, the fact that we even arrested the young woman may have significant international implications. Miss Granger is a hero to the British and many others; when word gets out of her detainment, we'll be the target of global outrage. I'd like to avoid that if possible."

"How are you planning on doing that?" Lynn asked.

"You'll know soon enough. I'd like the two of you in there with me."

***

Hermione looked up at the sound of the door opening. In walked Lynn, her partner, and a man Hermione had never seen before. "Miss Granger, you remember my partner Auror Ryan Andrews," Lynn said indicating to the taller man. Hermione directed a stiff nod towards the man. An equally stiff nod was returned.

Lynn barely withheld the smirk threatening to plaster itself on her face. "It is also my pleasure to introduce our esteemed Minister of Magic Topher Rudman."

Hermione felt her jaw drop as she stared at the weathered man before her. Rudman reached out a hand across the table, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger."

Hermione quickly regained her senses and shook the minister's hand. "The pleasure is mine," she said with slight uncertainty.

"It would seem we got off on the wrong foot this afternoon," Rudman said while taking a seat across the table. "Or at least with Auror Andrews at any rate," he said with a slight smile.

Hermione stayed silent, unsure what to say.

Rudman continued, "No charges have been filed against you, and we'd like to keep it that way. Our only request is that you keep your stay in our beautiful country as low-key as possible. We'd like to avoid having your new found celebrity exploited by the media."

"That won't be a problem, sir. I'm not a fan of publicity," Hermione said sincerely.

"Wonderful! On behalf of the ministry, I'd like to offer our apologies for this whole misunderstanding," the old man said with a warm smile.

Hermione felt like she was talking with someone's grandfather. "That's not necessary," Hermione said shaking her head, "since the misunderstanding was caused by my own ignorance and pain induced stupidity."

"I insist," the minister said, his smile never wavering.

Hermione sighed. "Alright, then I apologize for my share of the misunderstanding . . . for resisting arrest," Hermione said directing the last bit to Auror Andrews. Andrews gave another stiff nod.

"Apology accepted. Now as I understand it, a Kingsley Shacklebolt is the acting minister of your ministry, correct?"

"Yes."

"And you are well acquainted with him, on a first name basis?"

"Yes. . . . He's a member of the Order of the Phoenix with which I was in frequent contact with over the last three years."

"What's your opinion of him? Do you think he is well suited for the job?" Rudman asked. Hermione gave the man a confused stare. "I only ask to get a feel for the man. I plan on speaking to him soon about your ministry's current state."

"He's an amazing auror and leader," Hermione said after a moment. "He was one of several who led charges against Death Eaters during the final battle. . . . He has a pretty good sense of humor. I'm not sure what else to say."

"So you approve of him?"

"Of course."

Rudman gave an approving nod and stood. "It's been a pleasure, Miss Granger. I hope that next time we meet it's under different circumstances," he said with a smile and an outstretched hand.

Hermione stood and shook his hand once more. "My hopes exactly, Minister."

Rudman turned to the aurors. "Let's get this mess straightened out quickly and get this young woman out of here."

"Yes, sir," the aurors mumbled as Rudman left the room.

With the minister gone, Hermione became suddenly fidgety and nervous; the aurors weren't in trouble for arresting her, were they?

"We just have a bit of paperwork for you to fill out before you go," Lynn said handing Hermione a clipboard with several sheets of paper. Lynn exited the room, leaving Hermione alone with Andrews.

Hermione attacked the paper; her neat scrawl quickly filling out the forms, all the while refusing to look at the auror.

Lynn returned quickly with a plastic tub bearing Hermione's wand, her bag, and the loose change she'd had in her pockets. The auror placed the tub in front of Hermione. "We also need to see some identification."

Hermione abandoned the forms and took her wand and bag out of the tub. She looked up to see both aurors watching her closely. "Neither of you were able to open my bag?"

Lynn smiled. "Auror Andrews gave it a try. Had you refused to speak to us, we would have handed it over to our curse-breakers."

Hermione nodded and ran her wand tip across the clasp. Reaching in, she pulled out her wallet and handed her muggle ID to Lynn.

"Specialized security charm?"

Hermione looked up at Andrews, "Yes." The auror gave a third stiff nod.

Five minutes later, the paperwork was filled out and Hermione had her possessions in order.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Granger. If you need anything before you go -"

Hermione cut Lynn off, "I'm fine, I'd just like to get going."

Lynn nodded, "Should anything else come up while you're in Sydney, don't hesitate to stop by."

Hermione nodded and shook the auror's hand with a forced smile, she was exhausted and sore and eager to leave the small, whitewashed room.

Hermione moved towards the door and was surprised by Andrews' outstretched hand. She shook it with confusion unconcealed on her face.

"I apologize if I was a bit rough with you earlier," he said a bit tensely.

Hermione shook her head. "You were just doing you're job." Both gave the other one last stiff nod before Hermione escaped into the hallway and was led to ministry's atrium and visitor's entrance. A few more pleasantries and an elevator ride later, Hermione was exiting a rundown department store into a steady downpour.

She pulled the collar up on her jacket and made her way up the near-deserted street. Hermione's mind was as numb as her legs were tired when she finally stumbled upon a muggle motel. Worn-out and water-logged, she made her way into the building and rented a room for the night.

The room was tiny and, by the looks of it, hadn't been remodeled since the '70s, but Hermione didn't notice. All she saw was the single bed in the middle of the room. After securing the room to the best of her exhausted abilities, Hermione toed off her shoes, stripped off her heavy jeans and coat, and collapsed into the creaky bed. Sleep came mercifully quickly for the woman, but not before of a ginger-haired young man invaded her thoughts. _I miss you, Ron._

_***_

_A/N: So I took a bit of creative liberty with the last two chapters . . . In my mind, Hermione is suffering from mild PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) and these two chapters allowed it to be visualized (i.e., She doesn't act rationally when confronted with situations that remind her of suppressed/ignored memories/emotions.) Hermione doesn't have anyone there to talk sense into her, she has to figure it out on her own through her travels to find her parents._


	5. Gnomes and Nagging Regrets

_A/N: The long overdue chapter 5 is up and chapter 6 is on its way. Thanks to everyone who has put up with the wait (Finals went well, if anyone cares), to everyone who has reviewed (you folks are awesome), and an even bigger thanks to you for deeming my lowly writings as worthy of your time._

Molly Weasley had never felt older. Though not yet fifty, her joints hurt, her limbs were perpetually tired, and her soul ached from what felt like a lifetime of heartbreak.

As Molly climbed the narrow staircase up through the Burrow, she began organizing a to-do list for the rest of the day: Begin cooking the roast for dinner with Mrs. Tonks, Clean the house, Laundry . . .

A memory from earlier that week surfaced, leaving Molly with a slight hollow feeling. The past week had been very rough on her (and everyone for that matter), something which did not go unnoticed by Fleur and Hermione. One would always pick up where Molly had left off if her grief became too much for her to handle. In less than two days a silent agreement emerged between the young women, Fleur would do the cooking (breakfast or lunch since Molly always made sure to make dinner) and laundry while Hermione would clean up the meal and tend to the chickens and other odd jobs.

Molly quickly found herself relying heavily on the girls as the parade of funerals began until it ended with Fred's. Molly couldn't see how her house could have run with out them.

Her particular memory was from four days ago, the day before Fred's funeral. Arthur, Charlie, and Percy had gone into Diagon Alley to make the final preparations for the funeral, Ginny and Harry passed most of the day playing chess in the sitting room, George spent the day holed up in his room, Bill and Fleur walked into the nearby muggle village, and Hermione and Ron were avoiding each other like the plague.

Molly sighed sadly as she collected the dirty laundry. Even after spending nine months (nearly) alone together, her youngest son and practically adoptive daughter still hadn't worked out their problems. It wasn't that they argued constantly, in fact, Molly hadn't once heard them row since they'd been back. It seemed like they were afraid to be in the same room alone with each other, and when they were, few words would pass between them. Molly had nearly deluded herself into thinking that the two were impartial to each other.

In her memory, it was just after lunch and she was returning from a brief "rest" in her bedroom. Upon entering the kitchen, Molly spotted Hermione at the sink washing the lunch dishes by hand. Confused, Molly said, "There is an easier way to do that, dear."

Hermione turned around and gave her a small smile, "I know, but for some reason I find washing dishes by hand to be quite relaxing. . . . Something I picked up from my mum I guess."

Molly nodded understandingly. "That's why I cook. I suppose I should leave you to you're task then and finish the laundry," Molly said reaching for her basket on the way out the door. "Thank you for your help, dear."

Hermione nodded and returned to her work.

Molly had learned at an early age that some things were just done better the muggle way, perhaps Hermione had a point. What Molly did know was that drying spells had a tendency of wearing out fabrics, which was why Molly found herself outside folding robes from her clothesline.

The clothesline was near the house due to past "rogue" broom instances; Molly had gotten tired of watching the boys fly stunts around or, on occasion, be dismounted by it and had Arthur move it years ago. The location was also ideal for keeping an eye on the kitchen while she multitasked between laundry and making meals. At the moment, she could just see Hermione's profile at the sink . . . only, she wasn't alone anymore.

Molly watched as her youngest son walked up behind the young woman and place his hands on the counter on either side of her. For her part, Hermione either ignored or didn't seem to notice Ron's presence.

"This is new," Molly said to herself. She lost sight of Ron's face as he looked over Hermione's shoulder at the sink. Molly could see the young woman's mouth moving, but could not discern what was being said. Molly summoned another robe and continued folding. The two seemed to be having a disagreement judging by the frown on Hermione's face.

_Have they given up on their screaming matches?_, Molly thought slightly bemused. She watched as the young woman grabbed a nearby towel and dried her hands before turning to face her son. Though Ron had backed up slightly to accommodate Hermione's new position, he left his hands on the counter on either side of her. Both looked tense and angry and Molly had to resist the urge to barge into the kitchen unannounced just to dissolve the situation.

She instead turned to retrieve another set of robes. When she looked back up however, she was met with a bit of a surprise. Ron had leaned in and was only a few inches from Hermione; though both were still tense, Ron leaned in farther yet and kissed Hermione. Molly watched on in shock as the two teens snogged in her kitchen, though the only contact between the two was their lips. Hermione's tightly crossed arms quickly relaxed and were about to reach for Ron . . . but as quickly as Ron had leaned in, he pulled away.

Molly looked down at the robe she'd been folding and realized she had folded it inside out. Correcting her mistake, she looked back towards the kitchen. The anger and tension seemed gone from both of their faces, in their place were sadness and guilt. Molly watched as Ron mumble to Hermione and walked away with his hands in his pockets. Hermione didn't follow, but watched Ron leave with pain evident on her face.

The present Molly gave a tired sigh and entered Percy's room to retrieve his laundry. In her memory, when she had returned to the kitchen with her basket of folded clothes, she was surprised to find Hermione as unaffected as before her encounter with Ron. It was unnerving how well the young woman hid her pain as she asked Molly if there was anything else she could do. . . . So unnerving in fact that Molly began to wonder if the young woman _did_ harbor feelings for her son at all.

If only for her son's sake, Molly hoped her suspicions were unfounded. Since Hermione's departure, the mood at the Burrow had become a bit more somber and Molly knew it would only intensify with Bill and Fleur's departure that evening.

***

Harry laughed as he watched Ron spin like a discus thrower before releasing his hold on the unfortunate gnome and sent it sailing far beyond the row of hedges. He and Ron had spent the last half hour de-gnoming the garden and were trying out new techniques for launching the pests; Ron's Greek-inspired throw seemed to be the most effective when aimed properly.

"See you just have to time the release right," Ron said with a grin.

Harry shook his head and grabbed another gnome from Crookshanks; the ancient cat had been catching gnomes for the boys to toss for the last half hour. Harry grasped the gnome firmly by its feet with his right hand and, though still feeling a bit silly, spun in a quick, tight circle and released the gnome. There was a half second delay before a loud _thump_ resounded in the garden; Harry had released the gnome too late and had sent it crashing into the side of the nearby chicken coop.

There was a moment of frozen surprise as the boys watched the gnome slide comically slowly down the side of the small building . . . and then there was riotous laughter.

The boys were still drowning in mirth when Crookshanks brought the unfortunate gnome back to them; the cat laid the unmoving creature on the ground at their feet and looked up expectantly.

Staring down at the gnome, a sobering thought came to Harry. "Blood hell, you don't think it's dead, do you?" he asked Ron.

Ron hiccupped himself into seriousness as he joined Harry in staring at the gnome. "I don't think so, gnomes are tough little buggers."

Harry bent down and prodded it in the stomach. "I don't know, mate. He's not - OHW!" Harry yelled as the gnome chomped down hard on his finger. "Bloody effing hell! That little bugger!"

Ron was thrown into another fit of near-hysterical laughter as Crookshanks sprinted after the gnome, even Harry found himself laughing as the pain dulled. "I suppose I _did _deserve that."

"I'd say so . . . I think you dented the side of the chicken coop with the little guy. It was the least he could do to repay you."

Harry shook his head, "I think I'll just stick to the old way of gnome chucking."

"Aw - come on now, you'll get. Third time's the charm," Ron said as Crookshanks brought back the struggling gnome.

Harry reached down to take the gnome from Crookshanks, but he backed away and trotted over to Ron. "I think I should take that as a sign and just let you have the honors," Harry said to a snickering Ron.

Ron bent down and patted the feline. "What do you think 'Shanks, should we give him one more try?"

The cat whipped the gnome around violently in his mouth and walked back over the Harry. Harry grabbed the stunned creature from Crookshanks for the third time, took aim, and launched it into the air.

"There you go, mate! Right over the hedge." Ron said as he patted Harry roughly on the back.

"Good timing too, it looks like Crookshanks is bored with us," Harry said watching the cat disappear around the corner of the house.

"That or it could be because we've run out of gnomes."

Harry smiled and nodded in agreement. The last hour had felt like old times at the Burrow, before the war and the deaths. It was nice to be able to forget the outside world and live in the moment. "Hey, let's go check out the pond and see if we can spot anymore reporters."

"Sounds good to me." The protective spells around the Burrow left it and its occupants invisible to the outside world, but allowed those inside a full view of the outside; the pond marked the outer most reaches of the protective spells for that part of the Burrow.

"It's like they're not even trying anymore," Ron observed as they neared the small body of water. On the opposite side stood what looked like a makeshift camp made up of two tents.

"It's almost as if they're asking for trouble," Harry said with a raised eye brow as they took position on the dock.

Ron grinned. "I'm thinking bright yellow, personally."

"I was actually thinking a violent shade of red would go nicely," Harry said in a pseudo-lofty voice.

"That would be _much_ too deep of a color. How about Cannons orange?" Ron replied in a similar tone.

"Why that's a _splendid_ idea! On the count of three: one . . . two . . . Three!" Together Ron and Harry turned the two tents and all of the surrounding equipment the Cannons' signature orange. "Do you think they'll get the message this time?" Harry asked between laughs.

"I'm kind of hoping they don't. Ginny hasn't had a go at them yet, and then there's Hermione . . . I can't even imagine the things she'd think of to do to them."

Harry smiled and nodded, but said nothing. An unpleasant weight had dropped into his stomach as he remembered his promise to Ginny last night.

"You alright, mate?" Ron asked. "You look like George just slipped you a Puking Pastille. . . . Don't tell me you still haven't gotten back together with Ginny-"

"It's not that, mate. We, uh - we got back together last night actually," Harry said feeling his face burn. "Are you saying you approve now?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Harry, if anyone _has_ to date my sister, I'm glad it's you. I just don't want to see her get hurt 'cause that would mean I'd have to kick your scrawny arse." Ron paused a moment, "This is the real deal, right? None of this breaking up with her to keep her safe bullocks?"

Harry nodded. "I'm not going to let her go without a fight."

"Good." Ron lazily flicked his wand and the tent nearest to them developed blue polka dots.

Harry watched his friend carefully. "Actually there's been something I've been meaning to get off my chest."

Ron gave him an appraising look, "If it's an apology, I thought Hermione and I got it through your thick skull that we've heard enough of them from you to last a lifetime."

Harry gave frustrated sigh, "This is different - I should have dealt with this stuff right after it happened. This isn't just me over apologizing for taking you seat at dinner - This is important."

With a bit of impatience etched into his face, Ron shrugged his shoulders, "Fine, if it'll make you feel better."

Harry bit back a retort he knew he'd regret later. _Where to start . . . _"The two of you didn't need to come with me, you two could of gone into hiding, but you didn't. You two stuck by me, even though I put us in more danger-"

"Did you honestly think either of us would have let go out there on your own? I mean, no offense, I don't think you'd of lasted more than a week without Hermione and her infinite knowledge and wisdom."

"I wouldn't have lasted any longer without you there either," Harry stated seriously.

Ron scoffed, "Now I know that's a lie. We both know you Hermione managed to survive without me for a few months-"

"Yeah, and _surviving_ is about all I'd call it. We were both so bloody miserable without you that surviving was all that we could manage to do. We work best as a team, mate, and I forgot that when I told you to leave that night. . . . It was one of the biggest mistake of my life." Harry looked over at Ron and saw him shaking his head.

"I wanted to leave, I was just looking for an excuse to go. That was entirely my fault - I pushed you and Hermione when things were finally starting to happen and-"

"If it wasn't for that locket, I don't think-"

"I wouldn't have had the guts to leave, yeah, but I still would have felt and thought that stuff."

"Anyone in your position would have thought that stuff . . . Hell, _I_ was wondering if I had done the right thing by letting you two come with me. I had no idea what I was doing and I felt like I was taking advantage of our friendship by having you two out there with me freezing to death when you and Hermione could have been somewhere safe with your families. . . . And then to just disregard our friendship and the sacrifices you had made for me and tell you to leave . . . that was completely unacceptable." Harry was at a loss for words to describe his disgust with himself, but somehow felt slightly better by simply saying everything out loud.

Looking pensive, Ron offered another compromise, "So we both acted like idiots and regret what we did . . . We've learned from our mistakes, and vow not to make them again, and - agree to accept each other's apologies and put the matter to rest."

Harry rolled the thought around in his head for a moment and nodded, "I suppose that would be a reasonable thing to do." Harry offered his hand.

Ron shook it and pulled him into a quick guy-hug. "Are we good?" Ron asked after the quick showing of brotherly affection. "No more apologizing about stuff that happened on the hunt?"

Harry paused and looked pleadingly at Ron, "Well - there is one more thing . . ."

"Bloody hell," Ron said under his breath.

"Unlike that last thing, the whole Malfoy Manor thing was _entirely_ my fault!"

Ron shook his head, "Mate, if you're going to apologize to anyone, apologize to Hermione, not me."

"We could have all died because of my mistake-"

"Yeah, but if it wasn't for your mistake we might still be looking for that last Horcrux or worse . . . Hermione will likely tell you the same thing, if she talks to you about it of course," Ron finished under his breath.

"She still hasn't talked to you about what happened?" Harry asked.

Ron rolled his eyes, "Apparently her problems aren't _important_ enough, or _horrific _enough to warrant talking to me about."

Harry sat dumbfounded for a moment. "She hasn't talked to anyone then?"

"As far as I know, she hasn't. . . . Don't even think Ginny knows. Every time I'd bring it up, she'd go on about how we needed to focus on getting into Gringrotts instead what happened or that me losing Fred was _far_ more important to discuss than something that _happened ages ago_."

Harry slumped forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "You know, for a near-genus, Hermione can be pretty dense sometimes."

Ron snorted, "And stubborn."

"And she's in Australia all alone."

Ron shook his head and sighed, "Trying to talk to her about that was worse than trying to talk to her about Malfoy Manor."

Both watched as across the pond, one of the reporters had returned to the camp. He look annoyed and angry. "_Come on guys! _All I need is a quick interview, just a few questions!" Harry and Ron heard him shout at them. Harry flicked his wand at the first tent and rearranged the dots to spell out "Go Away." The reporter stood stunned for a moment, he apparently hadn't expected a response. "The wizarding world just wants to get to know their saviors, I'll make it quick!" Ron flicked his wand at the tent and turned the dots black.

"Let's head back up to the house and see if Ginny's back from her _girls-day-out_ with Fleur," Ron said getting to his feet while ignoring the reporter's shouted questions.

"Sounds like a good idea," Harry said following Ron. "How about this: If Hermione still refuses to talk about it after she gets back, we'll both corner her and, I don't know - force it out of her somehow."

Ron gave a short bark of laughter, "And how would you suggest doing that?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "We could threaten to deface her copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ or . . . or - I'm out of ideas."

"We could switch around the definitions in her _Spellmen's Syllabus_," Ron offered up.

"Let's just hope it doesn't come to either," Harry said as they entered the kitchen where delicious smells assaulted their senses. "It doesn't look like they're back yet, want to play a game of chess?"

"Do honestly think you can beat me just because you've been playing against my sister around the clock since we've been back here?"

Harry sat down on the floor and began setting up the pieces. "I think I have a _better_ chance of winning." They played in silence for a few minutes before Harry spoke up again, "That thing you said about kicking my arse if I hurt Ginny, the same applies to you and Hermione."

Ron broke his concentration and looked up. "Sorry?"

"I only seems right that I should look out for her since I'm the closest thing to an actual brother that she has. So I'm issuing you the same warning: Don't hurt her or I'll have to kick your arse."

"Aww - the big, strong war heroes are looking out for their little women," Ginny cooed entering the room.

"Zat is very sweet, don't you think?" Fleur asked Ginny, following her into the room.

Harry felt his face reddening and could see Ron's ears doing the same. Ginny knelt down behind Harry and pecked him on the cheek. "I think Hermione and I are more than capable of kicking both your sorry arses on our own thank-you-very-much."

Fleur laughed, " 'Ave Bill and Charlie returned from ze ministry yet?"

"Not yet," Ron said focusing on the game once more.

Harry watched Fleur roll her eyes and walk out to the kitchen. "So how was your day?" he asked Ginny.

"Surprisingly enjoyable," she said with a smile. "I have to admit, Fleur is starting to grow on me. I think I might even be a bit sad when she and Bill leave tonight." Harry gave a soft chuckle as he reached to move his rook. "What are you doing?" Ginny asked him sharply.

"Playing chess," Harry said uncertainly.

Ginny shook her head, "You're about to make the same mistake you made when you played me yesterday." Together she and Harry played against Ron, and though their effort was valiant and the battle was fierce, Ron still managed to defeat the duo despite having surrendered far more of his pieces to them than they to him.


	6. Accusations and Arguments

_A/N: To make up for the long delay earlier, I present to you chapter 6 ahead of schedule. (This is really chapter 5 ½ but we'll call it chapter 6.) This one picks off right where the last left off. Enjoy! _

"Where are those boys?" Molly sighed in frustration. Mrs. Tonks was set to arrive in half an hour and, with the exception of Ron and Harry, none of her boys had returned to the Burrow yet.

"Are you including Mr. Weazley - ah, Arthur - in zat?" Fleur asked with a hint amusement as she set the table.

Molly smiled, "He's been hiding that motorbike in his workshop since last summer and still thinks I don't know about it, so yes, I think he falls quite easily into that category as well."

Fleur laughed and was about to reply when a sharp rapping was heard on the front door. "Is she 'ere already?" she said as both women headed for the door.

"Andromeda! I wasn't expecting you for another half an hour. Come in, come in, dear!" Molly said as she stepped aside.

"Oh I know, Molly. But I figured it'd be a good idea to let everyone meet Teddy before dinner," she said gesturing down at the bundle in her arms.

" 'E is adorable!" Fleur cooed staring down at the infant.

"Goodness, where are my manners? You remember my daughter-in-law Fleur, of course." The two women exchanged pleasantries.

"Now where is the young Mr. Potter? I think it's about time he properly met his godson," Andromeda said as Molly led the women into the sitting room.

Harry, Ginny, and Ron were all still sitting on the floor around the chess board; Ron looking much happier than the other two. Harry and Ginny smiled and greeted their guest immediately, but Ron, Andromeda noticed, momentarily wore a look akin to Harry's when they had meet for the first time last summer. The look didn't last long though and Ron quickly greeted her warmly as well.

Andromeda walked over to Harry. "Would you like to hold him?"

Harry stared speechless at the infant for a moment. "I - I don't know how exactly," he finally stuttered.

"It's not difficult, dear," she said and helped him adjust his arms properly.

Harry looked down at the baby in his arms in awe; he had never held a baby before. "He's so small," he observed without thinking.

Everyone laughed. "He's only six weeks old, Harry, but he'll be up and running around in no time," Andromeda said with a smile.

The sound of laughter woke Teddy from his doze, but the infant didn't cry; his turquoise hair darkened to Harry's black.

"Now that was cool," Ron said with a grin.

"Where did he come up with that color in the first place?" Ginny asked.

"His blanket - he'll be doing that all night, though I'm not entirely sure if he knows he's doing it," Andromeda said. "How about I leave you three with him while I help your mother and Fleur with dinner?"

Harry nodded and sat down on the couch with Teddy safely in his arms.

"Just yell if he starts getting fussy," Andromeda said following Molly and Fleur into the kitchen.

"He looks like Remus," Harry said as the other two sat down beside him.

"Yeah, but he has Tonks' nose," Ginny added.

Ron grinned, "Which one?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, "Prat."

All three looked toward the hallway again at the sound of the door opening and closing. Bill and Charlie flashed them a quick wave before entering the kitchen.

"Neither of them looked very happy," Ginny stated.

"I'm sure we'll hear all about it soon enough," Ron said darkly.

Harry didn't say anything; there were so many rebuilding projects and people still missing and classmates in intensive care, he was overwhelmed by the thought of any one of them being the cause of the bad news.

"Do you think Hermione is in Australia yet?" Ginny asked Harry.

"Probably, she wasn't sure how long the flight would be, but she thought might be between twelve and sixteen hours."

"So it's, what - two or three in the morning for her?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, something like that." Teddy gave a small sneeze.

"I'm going to see what's going on," Ron said before standing.

"Have fun," Ginny said while poking Teddy's chubby fists.

The kitchen was surprisingly crowded Ron noted as he entered the room. "-the Goblins aren't just going to pretend it never happened-" Ron heard Bill say.

"Well I highly doubt those three broke into Gringrotts just for the thrill of it," his mother huffed.

"I'm on your side on this, I'm just telling you what . . ." Bill trailed off when he noticed Ron standing in the doorway. "Hey, how's it going?" he asked nervously.

"I don't know, you tell me," Ron said patiently. Bill rubbed his neck and searched for the right words. "Don't bother sugar-coating it, Bill."

Bill sighed, "The Gringrotts goblins are trying to press charges against you, Harry, and Hermione for breaking into the Lestrange vault and destroying half of Gringrotts."

Ron stood motionless for a moment, "Are they charging Griphook as well?"

Confusion masked Bill's face, "No - why would they?"

"Because he helped us break-in," Ron said tensely. "We couldn't have gotten in without his help."

Bill swore under his breath and shook his head, "That's funny because he's the one pushing hardest for the charges."

Fleur looked outraged, " 'Ow dare 'e! After we took 'im in and healed 'is wounds and protected 'im. 'E cannot get away wiz zis, Bill!"

Ron sat down heavily in one of the chairs around the table. "I imagine he's a bit sore that he doesn't have Griffindor's sword anymore. The little double-crosser led us to the vault and ran the second he had the thing and turned us over to his knife and torch wielding friends."

"Well this certainly won't do," Andromeda said seriously. "I can't imagine this is helping your attempts at re-forging ties with the goblins."

Bill shook his head, "None of this has gotten out to the media yet thankfully, but it's only a matter of time. They've finished most of the repairs to the above ground structure, but claim the below ground damage is extensive and will require large amounts of ministry funds to make the necessary repairs."

"That and they're demanding another dragon," Charlie added. "My colleagues and I all know what they do to their dragons and the kind of environment they're forced to live in. . . . Let's just say we're not exactly jumping at the bit to give them another one and they're not taking it well."

"Who's not taking what well?" Arthur Weasley asked as he and Percy entered the room.

"The goblins over at Gringrotts are trying to charge Ron, Harry, and Hermione with a load of trumped up charges," Molly said stiffly.

Percy nodded, "Yes, we heard about that from Kingsley just before we left."

"So we're just waiting on George?" Arthur asked his wife.

She nodded, "Hopefully he'll be here soon - I told him what time I was serving dinner."

"I'll go check on him," Charlie said striding out of the room.

"He's cleaning out his and Fred's apartment, right?" Ron said.

Molly nodded sadly. "All of you need to go wash up now. I'm serving dinner as soon as Charlie and George get here," she said shooing all of the newcomers out of the kitchen and following Andromeda to check on Teddy.

Ron went to the sink and washed his hands lost in thought. They (he, Harry, and Hermione) hardly gave a second thought when it can to law breaking on the hunt, after all, they had been wanted criminals at the time. With the exception of Hermione's insistence of paying for all of the food they "stole," they had disregarded ministry laws and did what was necessary to survive and complete their task. It seemed horribly unfair to have to answer to their then illegal acts when they had sacrificed their safety and happiness for the sake of ending the war that affected not just wizards, but goblins as well; surly the goblins were better off now than they were before.

Ron turned and watched Harry and Ginny walk in smiling and holding hands. "Mrs. Tonks is putting Teddy down for a nap. He so cute!" Ginny said in a high pitched voice.

"So what's going on?" Harry half-heartedly asked Ron.

Ron shook his head, "You don't want 'a know."

"That bad?' The three of them took seats at the table.

Ron told them about Gringrotts and about Griphook. Ginny's reaction was identical to Fleur's while Harry's was stoic like Ron's.

"But the ministry can't be taking this seriously, can they?" Ginny said. "I'm pretty sure there are far more witches and wizards who think of you three as heroes than goblins who hate you."

"Yeah, but the goblins control nearly all of the wizarding world's currency," Harry pointed out. "They're not creatures you want to piss off as Ron and I have learned. Hopefully this will be cleared up before Hermione gets back."

The kitchen door opened and in walked Charlie and George. "Hey," George said in a forced chipper voice. Charlie fished out a bottle of Oden's and poured George a shot of whiskey.

"Did you hear the news? Harry, Hermione, and I are going to be charged for robbing Gringrotts," Ron said in a tone resembling George's.

George shook his head and downed the shot. "And Mum gave Fred and me hell just for opening a joke shop, talk about double standards."

"Oh - good you two are here, we can start eating," Molly said as she and Mrs. Tonks returned form taking care of Teddy.

As like all of Molly's meals, that night's was delicious. It wasn't until after everyone had had at least two servings of everything that she allowed ministry business to be discussed at the table, the most pressing news being the Gringrotts charges. Arthur assured everyone that there was little likelihood of any of it going to trial and that there was more bad news that evening.

"The Malfoys have been released on bail today according to Kingsley and are not likely to do any time in Azkaban," he said with a hint of controlled anger.

The outrage heard around the table was louder than it had been at the news of the Gringrotts charges.

"That's insane!" Charlie yelled.

"What the _bloody_ hell is Kingsley thinking?!" Bill demanded. "They housed the entire Death Eater movement in their home and assisted in kidnapping Ron, Harry, and Hermione and a handful of others just in the past year alone!"

"I know boys, I know. I'm not saying I agree with Kingsley, but as far as the evidence shows, the Malfoys may as well have been prisoners in their own home and had little choice but to allow these things to happen. Kingsley has no direct evidence linking them to any Death Eater activities other than Lucius's escape from Azkaban last summer."

"Except for the dark mark on his forearm," Charlie pointed out.

"He was clear off the charges relating to that years ago, unfortunately, and it is not within Kingsley's power to bring them up again."

Bill stared hard at Ron and Harry. "You two have the power to stop this and you're not going to do _anything? _The two of you and Hermione knew what they were up to far better than anyone else and you're just going to let them walk?"

Harry stared down at his plate while Ron jumped to his feet. "You don't think we've thought this through?! That we didn't talk this over before Hermione left-"

Bill jumped to his feet as well. "I'm sure you did - you three live by your own code. Who _cares_ if these people would have sooner turned you over to Voldemort than glance at you? Who _cares_ if Lucius is directly responsible for the deaths of several dozen wizards and muggles? Who _cares_ if these people sat by and allowed your best friend to be tortured to the brink of insanity? They did what was right according your code, therefore they shouldn't have to answer to the min-"

"Bill!" Harry said sharply. The table fell silent; Bill and Ron both standing glaring at each other.

"You want to know who cares, Bill, I care," Ron said in low voice. "I was the one who listened to her screams, I was the one who risked his life with Harry to save her instead of escaping with Dobby and the others that night. There's more to this than you know-"

"Then tell us!" Bill demanded.

Ron looked down at Harry. "If it wasn't for Narcissa Malfoy, I'd be dead."

"You lot told us that already." Bill said stiffly.

Ron looked incredulous. "Don't you realize how significant that was? That was the beginning of the end. Her lie allowed Neville to kill the snake-"

"Which none of you have explained why that was important."

"Voldemort couldn't have been killed without getting rid of the snake first-"

"Why?"

"Bill, that's not the point. Her lie allowed Harry to fight the duel that he knew he wasn't likely to lose because of complex wand laws and other bullocks! Her lie started the chain of events that led to Voldemort's death!"

"So that justifies not telling Kingsley that the Malfoys held the three of you captive and tortured Hermione with the intent of handing you all over to Voldemort?"

"Bellatrix was responsible for the torturing," Ron replied tensely. "Which coincides with Kingsley's assessment that they were acting as prisoners of their own home."

"They didn't take any sort of joy or happiness from the idea of handing you lot over?" Bill asked angrily.

"Of course they did! It would have meant the end of their imprisonment."

Bill was silent for a moment, "And Hermione was okay with this, with not seeking retribution?"

"Okay with it? She was the one who convinced Harry and me. Besides, she got her chance to duel Bellatrix, that was good enough for her she said."

Bill sat down heavily and shook his head.

"You don't have to agree with us, but we do expect you, all of you, to respect our decision and not spread this about. Excuse me," he said leaving the table.

Everyone watched him leave in stunned silence. Harry didn't know what he should do; he wanted to go after Ron, but knew that he needed a chance to cool off.

"Well, who wants dessert?" Molly asked trying to break the tension. Nearly everyone muttered in unison going along with Molly's attempt.

"If it's alright, Molly, I'll take a second for Ron," Andromeda said calmly.

Molly looked like she wanted to argue, but nodded. Andromeda headed out of the kitchen and out the front door. Ron was sitting on the steps watching the setting sun. Ron's gaze didn't waver as Andromeda sat down on the steps next to him.

"Here, a row like that is bound to work up an appetite," she said handing him the plate.

Ron finally looked over at her and muttered a quiet, "Thanks."

They ate in silence for a few moments before Andromeda spoke up, "That was quite impressive back there - It takes a lot of guts to stand-up to an older sibling like that."

Ron nodded his head silently while staring at his plate.

"What the three of you decided to do is very noble, far more noble than what my sister and her family deserve, mind you -"

"So you think we should tell Kingsley, too?" Ron said sharply.

"What I think on the subject doesn't really matter. I stated a fact; even though you three have been through more terrible things than anyone should ever have to experience in a lifetime, none of you seem to have grown spiteful or cynical because of it. It says quite a bit about all of your characters. Leave no good deed unnoticed."

Ron nodded slowly. "It's just so frustrating sometimes because we all know that family deserves to rot in Azkaban for the things they've done over the years, but we can't just pretend that they weren't vital for Voldemort's downfall. Bill knows that too, but he just won't let it go."

"Older siblings, I've noticed tend to assume their opinion is always the correct opinion when arguing with their younger siblings. The pain of losing your brother is still very fresh for Bill and since no one is sure who was responsible for Fred's death, he is directing his influence and abilities towards ridding his world of injustice and your 'code' as he calls it is standing in his way."

"But we're just trying to do the same-"

"I know, but your ideas of justice and his don't seem to mesh at the moment," she said patiently. "You said this idea was originally Hermione's and yet you claim that telling Kingsley will give no evidence to farther Bill's aims, then why not tell Kingsley in the first place?"

Ron didn't answer; at the time, Hermione's logic had made perfect sense, but now . . . "I don't know."

"I'm afraid that your friend may not have been entirely honest with you and Harry . . . and even with herself. The Cruciatus Curse is a terrible spell to endure even for a moment, and if what Bill said was true . . . The terror of that night did not likely disappear with the dawn of the next morning for her."

"No, but that's what she wanted us to think."

Andromeda sighed sadly. "Sometimes it takes more than a gentle push to help the stubborn heart-"

"Sometimes it takes a dozen arguments and traveling halfway around the world first," Ron said hollowly.

"Perhaps," Andromeda said with a sad smile. She looked over at Ron and found him staring at her as if he was only really seeing her for the first time. "What?" she asked bemused.

Ron searched for words for a moment. "How do you do it?" he asked in awe.

"I'm afraid I don't understand your question, dear."

"You've lost so much, but you'd never know it just by looking at you. How do you do it?" he asked again.

Andromeda watched the setting sun as she organized her thoughts. "Plenty of tears and helping others. . . . Sometimes I wonder if I'd even bother getting out of bed if it wasn't for Teddy. How are you doing it?"

Ron thought for a moment, "Remembering the good times and why I fought in the first place I suppose. . . ."

"We all have our ways of coping, all that matters is that everyone find theirs," Andromeda said standing up. "We should probably head back inside soon before Molly worries too much."

Ron nodded, "Thanks, Mrs. Tonks." Andromeda simply smiled and led them back inside.

Everyone was in the sitting room taking turns holding Teddy by the looks of it. Percy was currently in possession of the young child while Mrs. Weasley was trying to convince Charlie to take a turn.

"Come now, dear, Percy looks like he could use a break. Why don't you take Teddy from him?"

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Mum, I see where this is going. Holding a baby is not going to make me want to give up my life as a bachelor and settle down," he said pointedly.

Looking slightly annoyed, Molly countered, "Well then I see no reason for you not to hold him-"

"Ron hasn't held him yet!" Charlie said enthusiastically when he spotted Ron.

Molly looked slightly put-out, but recovered quickly, "Go and relieve Percy of Teddy, dear."

Seeing no reason not to acquiesce, Ron carefully took Teddy in his arms and sat on the sofa by Harry and Ginny.

"You'd better watch out, Ronnie. Mum is on a mission to get grandbabies out us," George said in a stage whisper.

"Oh - nonsense," Molly said blushing a bit.

Ron grinned and stared down at Teddy. Harry and Ginny had been right, Teddy did look like Remus, but had Tonks' real nose. Blue eyes met gray and Ron watched in amazement as Teddy's hair changed colors again from Percy's rusty blond to his burnt orange. Ron found himself wondering if his and Hermione's kids would have the same color hair.

"Uh-oh, I think we can add Ron to Mum's list of casualties along with Fleur," Ron heard Charlie snicker.

Ron raised an eyebrow, "At least I'm not so terrified of commitment that I can't hold a baby."

"Hey, I happen to be happily married to my job and I've raised more infants than Mum."

Ginny snickered, "Dragons don't count."

"Why not? They're fussy, needy, and impatient . . . and likely to bite off your hand if you're not careful."

"They reach adulthood in, what - twelve maybe eighteen months?"

"More like twenty-four, but so what? My dragons might get jealous if I start seeing someone behind their backs."

"We can't have that now can we?" Ginny laughed.

"So it's in the best interest of everyone that I remain single and devoted to my dragons."

Ginny sighed dramatically, "Sorry, Mum, I tried."

The conversation stayed light for the remainder of the evening thanks to Charlie's stories of dragons in heat and some of the his more harrowing tales. Ron only half listened, he stayed busy trying to keep Teddy happy with the help of Mrs. Tonks and a bottle of milk. It was several hours after the sun had finally set that Molly and Andromeda finally called the night to an end.

With many reassurances that she'd be able to make it home fine and promises to return soon, Andromeda began issuing goodbyes while Teddy was passed around one last time. She came to Ron and last gave him brief hug, "Remember now, more than a gentle push-"

"But less than one of Charlie's shoves."

She smiled and nodded before collecting Teddy and Disapparating.

"You two certainly seem have gotten along well," Arthur observed.

Ron nodded, "She explained some stuff and, well . . . it helped."

"Fleur and I should get going, too," Bill said as George issued an exaggerated yawn.

"Oh - dear, don't you think it's much too late to be leaving? Why don't the two of you just spend one more night here and leave in the morning?" Molly asked with a bit of pleading in her voice.

Bill enveloped her in a tight hug. "Ah - Mum, you know if we do that we wouldn't leave tomorrow because someone from the Order would be coming for dinner in a few days and we'd need to stick around to say farewell to them or our luggage would mysteriously vanish again," he concluded directing the last bit at George.

"Well that would be just fine, dear. We have plenty of room for you two here."

Bill smiled sadly, "I know, Mum, but Fleur and I _need_ to go home. We need to, to move on."

"Well I suppose there's no point in trying to change your mind," Molly said before giving him another hug.

Bill and Fleur's farewells were like Andromeda's, but with a few more tears and longer. Just as before, Bill and Fleur came to Ron last.

"Mate, I - uh, I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that tonight . . . I'm sorry," Bill said uncomfortably.

Ron shook his head, "It's okay, I understand. You made a point that I'm definitely going to keep in mind."

Bill nodded and he and Fleur said their goodbyes and followed Andromeda's path to the gate and Disapparated. Ron was about to follow the rest of his family inside when he noticed Ginny and Harry falling back behind everyone.

"Goodnight, Ron," Ginny said pointedly.

Ron rolled his eyes and waved and thought about what Mrs. Tonks had said about how she coped with her grief: _Plenty of tears and helping others . . ._

_A/N: So ends another chapter. Thanks for reading and don't forget to review! _


	7. Deception and Dreams

_A/N: Here is the first half of the next chapter; like the last one, I had to split it up into two. Thank you, thank you, thank you! to everyone who has reviewed (especially to those that have reviewed multiple times) and to everyone who keeps coming back for more of my odd story (whose characters belong to JKR of course). Enjoy! (No copyright infringment is intended by the use of the name "Wired.") _

The halls of Hogwarts seem empty and lifeless, its walls cracked and crumbling. A lone woman walks the narrow corridors searching; searching for what, she is not sure. As she rounds a corner she is nearly blinded by a bright light shining at the end of the passage, and at the end of the passage stands a figure partially obscured by the surrounding brightness.

The woman calls to the figure, but her voice is lost in her surroundings as she begins to move towards the light. She is not sure who the figure is, but knows this is what she has been searching for and breaks into a run. She calls out again, but even the woman does not hear her own voice; the figure is beginning to disappear into the light.

The woman is desperate now, sprinting as fast as she can; she needs to reach the figure before it's too late, before the light engulfs the figure completely. Tearing down the decaying tunnel faster than she imagined possible, the woman attempts again to shout, but this too is a futile effort.

The brightness in the corridor increases ten-fold moments before swallowing the figure; the woman is too late. Ignoring logic, she again screams to the figure in last ditch effort and again no sound is heard. The woman collapses to the ground mid-stride, but feels no pain, only crushing grief and exhaustion. She has failed . . .

_Beep, Beep . . . Beep, Beep . . ._ Hermione opened her eyes with a snap only to shut them just as quickly. The morning sun was shining brightly through her uncovered window and straight into the sleepy brunette's eyes. She quickly rolled over and turned off her alarm and cursed her own carelessness. _Put every locking spell imaginable on the door and window and anti-Apparation wards around the perimeter only to forget to shut the blinds . . ._

Groggy and discomforted by her dream, Hermione sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes as yesterday's adventure replayed in her mind. That had certainly not been a dream, as the soreness in her lower back and left arm attested to.

Clad in only simple cotton panties and her bullet-torn shirt from her adventure, Hermione padded across the coarse carpet to the cool tile of the small bathroom. The scrapes along her arm had scabbed over during the night and required a fair bit of self-control not to pick at.

She pulled off her shirt and was surprised to still be wearing her bra, _I literally just fell right into bed last night, didn't I?_ Slowly and carefully, she un-bandaged her shoulder. Like her arm, it too had scabbed and no longer required a reapplication of gauze.

Her back was a different matter. Over the course of the night, the already large bruise had grown and morphed into sickening shades of green, yellow, and brown. With an annoyed sigh, Hermione padded back to the bed and retrieved her wand from under the pillow and healed her wound.

Though magic was indeed _magic_, it didn't always _work_ like magic. It had its limits, especially when it came to healing charms. The bruise shrank significantly, but didn't disappear completely. Satisfied with the result, Hermione headed back to the bathroom and showered.

***

Two hours later, Hermione was midway through inhaling a fast-food breakfast, praying she wouldn't regret it later, and nearly over whelmed by a fairly uncommon state of mind: indecisiveness. Hermione smiled, _Well that's not entirely true. I can never make up my mind when it comes to Ron: should I hex him or snog him senseless . . . Though admittedly, I have been leaning towards snogging lately._

While sipping the last of her coffee, Hermione went over her options again. _I'd be the most comfortable just going to all of the offices and interviewing the staff in person, but I can't realistically search every dental office in Sydney - let alone all of Australia. I could call the offices, but I'd have to use a payphone and that too would be very time-consuming and tedious. __What I really need is a search engine and some luck._

Though a novice web user, Hermione was familiar with it enough to find her way around thanks to her dad. _My dad, the technology junky. I just hope he has a website for their new office up and running by now. _John Granger's hobby was a boarder-line obsession in Hermione's opinion, _He's a dentist not a computer programmer after all._ And yet, he would spend a few hours every weekend looking into the newest gadgets for his and her mum's office and programs for her family's home computer, the computer that he built himself. _Dad and Mr. Weasley would get along very well. . . ._

Regardless of which option she chose, Hermione needed to locate another phone book. The air outside was cooler and drier than the day before, allowing Hermione to don enough clothing to adequately hide her injuries and avoid any unwanted attention.

Nervous energy coursed through her sore body as she located a phone booth just up the block and waited for the current user to vacate it. She looked around and took in her surroundings. Only a few blocks from her motel, the area felt safer more lively than the diner near the airport. The shops looked clean and well cared for, some even undergoing exterior construction. It almost seemed odd how clean and neat things were until she noticed a flier on the side of the phone booth promoting a protest against next summer's Olympic games.

One store in particular had flagged her interest, _Wired_. The windows were slightly tinted, but she could just make out a number of people crowding around several circular tables staring at glowing boxes . . .

Narrowly avoiding being flattened by an oncoming BMW, Hermione darted across the busy street and into the internet café. Two minutes later, she was seated in front of a glowing screen reserved for her for fifteen minutes. _Hopefully I won't need more than five . . ._ From her father's favorite search engine, she typed in her parents' pseudo-names and "dentistry" and hit search. The results list boasted several hundred, but Hermione knew she wouldn't need to look past the first hit on the list, "Wilkins Dentistry: Established 1998 by Dr. M. Wilkins and Dr. W. Wilkins . . ."

The room, though pleasantly cool when she arrived, now seemed uncomfortably warm and constricting. The website was achingly similar to the one her father had made for their practice back home. With a trembling hand, Hermione jotted down the address and phone number for the office without absorbing it, and needed to read through it three more times before realizing it wasn't in Sydney. She had never heard of the city and started a new search. Hermione felt her jaw drop and a hysterical laugh try to fight its way out her throat; their practice was on the other side of the continent. _So much for swearing off flying._

***

A young woman walks down an empty hall, mindful of her last failure. This part of the castle is less like a corridor and more like an ancient ruin; the walls around here seem willing to fall at the slightest of breezes. Climbing over piles of rubble, she sees the shadowy figure moving away from her through the passage. Hope grips her heart; she hasn't failed just yet after all. She begins to quicken her pace. The woman's heart races as she gains ground on the figure; she is almost able to discern the shadow's identity.

The woman loses sight of the figure for a moment just as she feels the ground below her shake; panic sets in as the shaking becomes a continuous, violent tremor. The remaining walls around the woman begin to collapse and box her in; she is soon trapped. Terrified and disoriented, the woman looks up in time to watch the last section of wall topple and rush toward her . . .

Barely holding in a startled yelp, Hermione woke with a sharp intake of breath.

"Are you alright?" Hermione looked over and saw a middle-aged man sitting next to her staring at her with concern.

Hermione took a calming breath, "I'm-" The plane hit another patch of turbulence, causing the young woman to clutch at the armrests. With shallow, shaky breaths, she gave a feeble nod.

The man smiled sympathetically, "Close your eyes and take deep breaths. . . . Picture yourself anywhere, but here. I've flown this route dozens of times - you're safe. These guys know what they're doing."

Hermione nodded, closed her eyes and breathed; it didn't take long for her grip on the armrests to loosen. "Thank you. I'm, um - not much of a fan of flying, I guess," she said in a voice of uncertainty.

The man laughed, "No, I guessed as much. The name's Bill." He offered his hand.

After a split second hesitation, "Mia."

"So what brings you onto a plane that you obviously don't want to be on?" Bill asked after the introductions.

"I have family in the area I haven't seen in a while," Pseudo-Mia said carefully. "What about you?"

"I do some consulting for the railroad out here. They're working on expanding north. You wouldn't by chance know how to play Cribbage, would you?"

Hermione paused for a moment, "I think so, but I might need a refresher."

"Not a problem."

***

Hermione walked out of the airport feeling a bit guilty. She and Bill had enjoy two rounds of cards and conversed like friends. He told her about his job, about his family, he even suggested a good place to rent a car near the airport. What had she shared? She told him about her fictional family, her fictional classes at her parent's alma mater, she even told him about her fictional dental-majoring boyfriend. Nearly everything she told him was a lie and he bought every word of it, and why not? Any normal person would have been able to tell a kind stranger a few facts about their life, but not her. She couldn't tell him she just spent the last ten months trying to take down an organization bent on killing her and her friends and enslaving _normal_ people like him, that she was on board that godforsaken plane to find her parents whom she honestly didn't think she'd ever see again. It made Hermione realize just how difficult it was to belong to two different worlds, but not to truly fit into either.

A stop at the rent-a-car and a mom-and-pop grocery store later, Hermione was heading north towards her destination; the cold deli sandwich and juice settling much more agreeably in her stomach than her greasy breakfast. Though it would be long past closing time for her parent's practice by the time she'd get there, Hermione had a plan and drove feeling at ease and freer than she'd felt in days thanks to the wide open terrain and the lack of posted speed limits. Indecisiveness was a thing of the past.

***

"You'll be wise to carry a torch with you, Miss. Street lights don't always cut it, especially in residential parts," the manager of the small inn said.

Hermione gave him a confused look.

"Snakes, they're not a huge problem, but the little buggers are out there."

Hermione suppressed the shuddered threatening to chill its way down her spine, "I thought they preferred daylight since they're cold blooded."

"Oh - they do, but the ground is still plenty warm and it's only just after dusk. They won't bother you if you don't bother them. Just watch your step."

"You wouldn't by chance have one I could borrow for the evening, would you?" Hermione asked uneasily. This definitely hadn't been accounted for when she formed her plan.

"Sure thing. If you use the batteries dead, change 'um and bring it back in the morning."

Hermione made her way out of the office into the cooling evening air and looked westward towards the remnants of the setting sun, now just a faint strip of lilac surrounded by the deep darkness of the night sky. Praying the manager's warnings would be unneeded, Hermione set off towards her destination.

As Hermione passed a tavern emitting the sickeningly delicious scent of fried food, she ran through her plan of attack. She had gone to the manager complaining of a toothache and inquired about a dentist; he, as predicted, referred her to _Wilkins Dentistry. _Intending to use the manager's directions and find it that night, the manager stopped her because it was closed and warned her about snakes; she'd countered that she needed to stretch her legs after the four hours on the plane and four more in the rental and took his flashlight, promising not to get bit and require him to drive her to the nearest hospital in the middle of the night.

Now she was heading to the office even though she knew no one would be there; there wasn't really a reason to check out the building, but she _needed_ to see it. It was the part of the plan she couldn't skip; she needed to be mentally prepared to meet her parents as complete strangers. She couldn't allow her emotions to betray the lie she was about to tell them; failure wasn't an option.

Under the glow of the streetlights, just up the dusty sidewalk, stood a whitewashed building baring the name _Wilkins Dentistry_ proudly on its street-facing wall. Hermione felt the first of what would likely be many tremors of unease in her chest; they were so close, but she wasn't ready . . . not yet.

Hermione stood motionless staring at the one-story building and let memories seemingly from another life overwhelm her senses. Though most were happy, the ones that intruded to the forefront of her mind were unpleasant and the most recent, the ones where she told her parents about the war and her plans and her plans for them . . . minus the part about altering their memories. Guilt coursed through her veins like ice, leaving her body and soul chilled in the cool night air.

Physically shaking her head in an effort to refocus, Hermione breathed deeply and searched through memories of holidays and lazy days to find one she could cling to, one to restore her waning confidence.

A calming warmth pushed out the guilt and Hermione continued past the building toward her new target. She veered off the main street and switched on the torch. Though there were streetlights, the manager had been right; the extra light was needed to closely watch the dusty ground.

The memory Hermione summoned was from the summer after her third year; a terrible storm had struck the area, killing the power to her neighborhood. By candlelight, Hermione and her parents played cards and board games while the storm raged just outside. They played for hours, eating junk food and drinking (sugar-free) soda until Hermione finally passed out on the sofa while her father played tunes from the '70s on his old acoustic and her mother sang vocals. It was a bittersweet memory; four years later, she still held onto that memory as one of the last times she had been truly comfortable in the muggle world, that she had felt completely at home in her parents' house.

Walking briskly for nearly fifteen minutes, she slowed to a saunter as her parents' home came into sight; it couldn't have been more different from their one in the UK. While the old one had been large and multi-level complete with a large green lawn, the new was single-leveled maybe with a basement and complete with a spotty dirt/shrub lawn. But the two did have one thing in common, both blended right in with the rest of their respective neighbors.

Though the tremors returned, Hermione still felt in control of the situation. She ignored the familiar and embraced the foreign elements of the outside décor as she walked slowly to the front door and knocked, half hoping no one was home. She subconsciously held her breath and waited anxiously.

***

"Don't get that," Wendell said as Monica put down her newspaper.

"Oh - I highly doubt it's Rudy wanting to renegotiate his bill again," she said, lightly hitting her husband's shoulder with the rolled up daily as she walked to the door.

"You never know."

"No, I suppose not." She opened the door and was met with a surprise. A young woman, worn around the edges and pale, stood on their front stoop. Though slightly sickly looking, staring at the woman was like staring into a mirror at a younger self.

"I'm sorry to bother you so late, but I'm staying with some friends in town and I took a walk, but now I can't seem to find my way back," the young woman rambled in a forced calm. "I was wondering if you had a phone book I could use."

Monica gave the woman a once over. She looked tired as if she'd been wandering around the streets for a while. "Sure. Wendell, could you get it?"

Wendell rose from his computer with a sigh, "Who are we looking for?"

"Neal and Lynda Porter," the woman said as his wife showed her inside to prevent moths from entering.

"Humm, didn't we see Neal last month for a crown replacement?" Wendell asked Monica as he extracted the thick volume. When she didn't immediately answer, Wendell turned back in time to see his wife's blank face before she dropped to her knees. The young woman rushed forward and caught Monica before she was injured further. Wendell rushed to the women, the Porters long forgotten.

The woman was checking his wife's pulse when he finally made it to her side. "Monica, Love? Monica, talk to me. Shit -" He looked wildly to the woman, but no words came.

"She'll be fine," she said softly.

"How do you -" he began until he saw the long, ornate stick she pulled out of her sleeve. Something far in the back of his mind flashed, but what he wasn't sure.

"You both will be," she said before pointing the stick at his chest.

Wendell stared at the woman in confusion as a flash of colored light emitted from the tip of the stick traveled to his chest. Wendell felt his mind and body relax instantly and fell peacefully into a comfortable darkness.

***

Hermione carefully laid her father beside her mother and allowed herself to be overwhelmed by her emotions. Great painful sobs tore through her throat as an urge to vomit nearly overtook her body. It was several minutes before she could calm down enough to get up off the floor and lock the door and apply the appropriate security charms.

Holding onto herself tightly, Hermione looked down at her parents. _These are the people that raised me, that cared for me, that _loved _me and I just turned my wand on them._ Her body shook with fresh guilt-fueled sobs as she sunk to her knees, unable to come to terms with what she had just done. Closing her eyes tightly, Hermione searched for the memory she had used so much mental effort to find and clung to it like a lifeline. Her sobs quieted to gentle weeping and finally to silent tears.

_There was no other way_, she thought tiredly as the levitated her parents down a hallway to her right. _They needed to be unconscious for the spell to work and that was the most humane way to do it._ She lowered them gently on top of the bed in the master suite and left immediately.

Hermione headed straight for the kitchen and fixed herself a sandwich even though food was the last thing on her mind. She was about to pour herself a cup of what had to be day-old coffee when she spotted a Diet Dew and grabbed it. The counter-charm she was about to attempt was difficult and required not only a thorough knowledge of the original spell, but also a fair amount of physical and magical energy. She had never attempted such a difficult spell.

She brought her hastily made meal to the breakfast nook and ate mechanically. Her thoughts drifted freely until they fell on the one person she had wanted to see just as badly as her parents, Ron. She felt an ache in her chest as she thought about they're parting. Hadn't he tried to reason with her, hadn't he said that going alone was a bad idea, that he should go with her to protect her - to support her? What had she said? _I can protect myself, I'll be fine, I can't take you away from your family after all that's happened. _Had she actually believed those reasons then?

Hermione shook her head sadly. In all honesty, she hadn't. She _needed _to do this alone; she _needed_ to right her wrongs on her own; it was her penance. _That's not right. My_ wrong _kept my parents safe and alive. Why do I feel so bloody guilty then?_ _Because I lied to my parents . . . because I lied to Ron as well?_

Hermione stared at her empty plate and felt her heart break a little, _I don't completely trust him anymore, do I? The last time I leaned emotionally on him was the morning after the battle and even then I didn't really tell him anything he didn't already know. I took more comfort in his embrace than his words. . . . I trust him with my life, but not with my heart. _

Hermione downed the rest of her Dew in an attempt to wash the despair from her body. She had always known the problem, but hadn't at the same time.

She carried her dishes to the sink and took a calming breath. She didn't have time to contemplate her revelation about her fledgling relationship with Ron; she needed to restore her parents' memories. Hermione rolled up her sleeves and walked determinedly down the hallway.

They looked peaceful, as if they were merely sleeping and not in a state of charm-induced unconsciousness. Hermione extracted a battered notebook from her beaded bag and opened it in to the middle where she had written the final draft of the counter-spell (and the original spell a few pages earlier).

The spell she had used allowed for customization to ensure the strength and protection of the charm; those same customizations were also needed to reverse the charm. By design, the original memories were (nearly) irreversibly modified without knowing the original charm exactly. Hermione, being overly cautious, had drafted the original spell to be as infallible as possible knowing full well how difficult it would be to reverse.

Wand in hand, Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deeply focusing on the subtle energy flowing from her tired body to her wand. Though it circulated through her body like blood through veins, she followed the energy from her wand to her hand, to her shoulder, and finally to a place deep in her chest. Another cleansing breath, she pulled a bit of the energy from its source and began the counter-charm.

She would need to cast a separate counter-charm on both of her parents, but wouldn't be able to cast them in secession due to the physical demands of the spell; she could already feel exhaustion creeping into her body. She spoke the words like a mantra and moved her hand with the practiced grace of an orchestra conductor. She knew the spell forward and back; messing up the charm wasn't her fear, not being able to finish it was.

Half-way through, Hermione could feel beads of sweat trickling slowly down her back, her focus never wavering. She chose her mother to wake first for one simple reason: she was less likely to freak-out when she woke. As a child, Hermione was never able to understand how her mother could remain so calm in times of great stress or aggravation, whether she was arguing with unpleasant patients or dealing with Hermione's confused teachers after she had accidentally caused her least favorite bully's chair to collapse several times in one day without touching it. But now, after all that Hermione had been through, she thought she was beginning to understand.

With a shaking wand, Hermione began the final part of the spell, all too aware of her body's desperate plea for rest. As she uttered the last syllables, Hermione could have sworn she felt a bit of her own essence of being leave through her wand as she sank to the knees. Fighting off light-headedness, she used the edge of the bed to hoist herself back to her feet to look for any sign of waking from her mother. The sudden change in altitude, however, was too much for her already weakened state and caused her vision to blacken as she took a step back to regain her balance. She was falling to the floor before she knew what was happening.

Too tired to move, Hermione began to drift into the welcoming darkness, until she heard words she thought she'd never hear her mother say again: "Hermione? _Oh my -_"

_There you go, the second half will come soon (hopefully). Let me know what you think: too in-depth, too tedious, too little actual R/Hr . . . never mind I know the answer to that already. As always, thanks for reading!_


	8. Memories and Meltdowns

_A/N: Here is chapter 8, picks up right where 7 leaves off. Also, I posted a single chapter outtake from DH a few days ago that might clear up a tiny bit of this chapter (a scene from Malfoy Manor I wrote a while back that I'm kind of using here), so if you want to read more, there you go. Enjoy!_

To say that Elizabeth Granger woke with a splitting headache would have been an understatement. She sat up slowly, not entirely understanding how she ended up where she was. She was about to prod her husband to get her something for her head when she heard a soft whimper somewhere to her right. She looked down and saw the lost young woman, her only daughter, unmoving on the floor. "Hermione? _Oh my -_"

Elizabeth sprang from the bed to her daughter's side and brushed the stray curls from her pale face. "Hermione, dear, open your eyes - _please_ open your eyes."

With a tremendous effort, her little girl opened her eyes just wide enough to see and whispered two of the sweetest words she'd ever heard: "Hi, Mum."

Nearly overcome with emotion, Elizabeth stroked the young woman's cheek and said in a wavering voice, "Hi, Sweetie. Are you okay?"

Hermione nodded. "Dad's okay, too. I'll wake him later."

A bit confused, Elizabeth nodded and swallowed hard, "Are we safe?"

"I think so," Hermione said softly and pushed a vile into her mother's hand. Elizabeth uncorked it and tried to hand it back to her. Hermione shook her head, "For your head."

Elizabeth stared at the pale blue liquid for a moment and drank it and felt her migraine melt away. "Thank you, dear. Let's get you off the floor," she said as helped Hermione sit up slowly. Her daughter looked disoriented and exhausted. "Are you sure, you're okay?"

Hermione nodded slowly, "Just tired."

"If you say so," Elizabeth said trying to keep the disbelief out of her voice. She pulled one of her daughter's arms across her shoulders and pulled Hermione to her feet. Hermione swayed and leaned heavily on her mother, but kept her footing. "Let's -" She was about to move her daughter to the bed she had just vacated, but she noticed just how still and unmoving her husband was - it was as if he was . . . "Let's take you out to the sofa."

It was slow going with Elizabeth supporting most of her daughter's weight. Breathing hard, Hermione collapsed heavily onto sofa. "Can I get you anything, dear?"

"No," Hermione whispered looking like she wanted nothing more than to melt into the back of the sofa.

"Lie down and rest. We'll talk in the morning," Elizabeth said softly. Hermione didn't need to be told twice; she stretched out across the furniture's length and quickly drifted away. "I love you," Elizabeth said in a whisper, surprised when her daughter repeated the words in a mumble.

_Where have you been?_ Elizabeth thought as she stared at her sleeping daughter. _You look so tired, so sad, so . . . so thin. Is the war over? Are your friends okay? . . . Did you win or do we need to find a new place to hide? _She sighed sadly. She hoped with all her heart that Hermione's war was over, that she and her friends had won, _but at what cost?_ Her little girl looked like she'd lived a dozen lifetimes since Elizabeth had last seen her and half dreaded, half wondered what Hermione had endured in that time.

Feeling chilled, Elizabeth started a fire in the ancient-looking hearth. The blaze seemed to give Hermione an almost seraphic appearance, masking her ghostly pale skin with a subtle amber glow. Elizabeth laid a blanket over the younger woman and wheeled John's - _or is he still Wendell? - _computer chair to the sofa. Curling her feet beneath her, Elizabeth kept watch over her newly found daughter.

***

Elizabeth woke with a start, unsure why; the gray sky outside the dining room windows told her it was just before dawn. Stretching the crick in her neck from sleeping in the chair, she looked down at Hermione and understood why. During the night, she had rolled onto her side, curled into a tight ball, and was whimpering piteously.

Reaching out, Elizabeth tried to comfort her daughter only to have her flinch at her touch. _Well this won't do_, Elizabeth thought. She knelt down next to Hermione and rubbed her arm and spoke soft words of comfort to ease her little girl into consciousness or at least into more pleasant dreams.

". . . No . . . please . . ." Hermione whimpered fearfully.

Elizabeth stiffened. _My god, what did they do to you?_ She felt an anger like nothing she'd ever felt before consume her heart; she didn't know who had done what to the broken woman in front of her, but she vowed to find out and demand retribution for her daughter's pain. "It's just a dream, dear. You're safe, Hermione."

As she neared waking, Hermione's pleas became more audible, "No more, please. . . . hurts . . . plea - no, no, NO!" She sat up violently and sprang away from Elizabeth to the other end of the sofa and cowered.

Elizabeth rushed to her side, but Hermione again flinched at her touch. "Hermione, it's me - Mum. It was just a dream, dear."

Hermione looked up with a terrified face, "Mum?"

"Yes, you're safe now. No one's going to hurt you," she said, gently wrapping her arms around the younger woman. Hermione stiffened at first, but quickly dissolved into tears. "It was just a dream, dear."

"No it wasn't," Hermione said in an almost inaudible voice.

Elizabeth felt her insides go cold and held Hermione tighter. "You're safe now. I won't let anyone hurt you."

Hermione nodded and closed her eyes.

***

_. . . Hasn't hurt me none, I can read the writing on the wall. Kodachrome, They give us those nice bright colors, They give us the greens of summers . . ._

Hermione woke to a familiar song drifting from somewhere behind her, so familiar she would have expected her dad to complain about Mum's choice in music that morning if she hadn't remembered that he was still waiting for his memory to be restored. She sat up and ran her fingers through her messy hair.

"Good morning, dear."

Hermione turned and saw her mum sitting at the nook nibbling on a piece of toast. "G' morning, Mum," she said with a bit of uncertainty. She watched as her mum walked over to the sofa and sat down beside her. Hermione looked down at her hands folded in her lap; there was so much she wanted to say, but she didn't know where to start.

Her mother, it seemed, didn't notice or care and pulled Hermione into a tight embrace. She felt like a child again, home from a rough day at school, letting her mum make her feel better. It was a wonderful feeling Hermione hadn't felt in a long time.

Elizabeth loosened her hold and took her daughter's face in her hands and said in a gentle voice, "This is how it's going to work: you're going to have breakfast - a _big_ breakfast mind you, you're going to get cleaned up, and then we're going to a have a talk. How does that sound?"

Hermione nodded, "Okay."

Elizabeth smiled and kissed her forehead, "Let's get you something to eat."

***

The morning atmosphere was tense - yet affectionate, polite - yet familiar. Both women left many things unsaid, things that could wait until John Granger knew who he was again.. They both agreed, after dinner, Hermione would begin recounting her dangerous adventure.

After a quick trip to the inn to return the torch and check-out, the women retreated to the master suite. Elizabeth listened in earnest as her daughter explained what was needed of her and how long the process would take. It sounded incredibly complicated, but Elizabeth figured if Hermione had completed the process once already, then there was no reason to think she wouldn't be able to do it again.

As Hermione began the counter-charm, Elizabeth noticed a calm she had never seen in her daughter before. Hermione's insecurities and quick temper had always resembled John's temperament, something that Elizabeth would often tease the two about. She wouldn't say her daughter had found an inner peace - especially in light of earlier that morning, but Hermione seemed more able to compartmentalize her feelings and emotions. The young woman had plenty of emotional baggage, but each bag had its own special spot for storage somewhere deep in the back of her mind.

Elizabeth watched on in amazement as her daughter spoke fluently as if reciting the words of an often said prayer even as it became increasingly apparent the physical toll the spell was having on her body. The older woman waited nervously praying her daughter's efforts weren't in vain.

The gray mist slowly forming over John's head was steadily becoming more visible; having an almost cartoonish look, it reminded Elizabeth of a depressed Eeyore being followed by a rain cloud of gloom. She watched with fascination as the mist descended seemingly through her husband's still face as Hermione finished the spell with a last wave of her wand.

Elizabeth strode forward and caught her daughter as her knees gave out and helped her to the edge of the bed next to John. Her eyes were open, but unfocused. "Are you okay, dear?" Elizabeth asked Hermione. Upon her slow nod, Elizabeth shifted her focus to her husband.

John was beginning to stir and let out a low moan of pain. "John, wake up. _Please_ wake up. John, I need you to open your eyes," she pleaded, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice while shaking his shoulder.

"_Uhm_ - What's wrong, Love? What happened?" he said hoarsely, cringing slightly.

Elizabeth felt her eyes tear-up, but blinked them back. "Nothing's wrong. I, um - Here, this should help your headache," she said handing him a vile of light blue liquid.

John sat up and downed its contents. It wasn't until he handed the small container back to his wife did he notice another person in the room. Sitting at the foot of the bed was a half-conscious young woman; though her hair was shorter than he'd ever seen it before and she was far too thin to be healthy, John felt his heart jump to his throat. "Hermione?" John scurried off the bed and knelt down in front of his daughter. "Hermione, I - you . . ." Suddenly John remembered everything from the night before: the young woman at the door, Elizabeth collapsing, why he lost consciousness. . . .

With some effort, Hermione focused on her father's face. "Hi, Dad."

John opened and closed his mouth several times before giving up on words and pulling Hermione into a tight embrace. "You gave me one hell of a scare, Little Mouse."

"Language, Dad," she said imitating her mum.

John let out a watery laugh and pulled back. "Are you alright? Do you need anything?"

Eyes drooping noticeably, she said, "I'm fine, just tired."

Sharing a look first with Elizabeth, "Okay, why don't you lay down and get some rest? Your mum can fill me in on everything for you."

Like the night before, Hermione didn't need much coaxing and tipped heavily into the soft pillows.

Places reversed, John ran his fingers through his daughter's hair. "Get some sleep, just don't go disappearing again," he said with a bit of uncertainty.

"I won't."

Leaving a peck on her forehead, John watched Hermione succumb to exhaustion. Satisfied that his daughter wasn't about disappear any time soon, he gently pulled his misty-eyed wife out of the room. Neither said a word, until they reached the sitting room. Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but was cut-off by John's lips. The kiss was searing and hard and stole the air from Elizabeth's lungs. "When I saw you fall, I thought - I thought . . . I didn't recognize my own daughter telling me you'd be alright - I had no idea what was going on. One second you were fine and the next . ." John mumbled in desperation when he finally pulled away.

Still panting slightly, Elizabeth put a finger to his lips. "Shhh - I'm okay, everyone's okay. I thought the same thing when I saw you after I woke up and I _knew_ what was going on. Hermione is going to be out for a while so why don't you take a shower and let everything soak in and I'll make you something to eat?"

Taking a deep breath, John nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good." He pulled her into another kiss, gentler but just as passionate as the first. "I love you, both of you."

Elizabeth smiled knowing how hard it was for him to see her unconscious one minute and then fine the next only to watch their daughter collapse from exhaustion the moment he woke. "I love you, too. Now get going, there's plenty we need to go over before she wakes up."

***

_Thruppence and sixpence everyday, Just to drive to my baby, Thruppence and sixpence each day, 'Cause I drive my baby every way, Magic Bus . . ._

Hermione sat up slowly, _From _Simon and Garfunkel _to _The Who_, that is definitely Dad's doing._

"How are you feeling, Mouse?"

Hermione watched her dad take a seat next to her on the bed. "Better," she said unable to shake off her unease and guilt. "I - I . . ." Hermione took a deep breath. "I'm sorry - for everything, for lying to you and Mum, for sending you two here, for -"

John took her face in his hands. "No more of that. Your mum just got through telling me you've been doing almost nothing but apologizing all morning. Right now, all that matters is that you're okay and that you're safe."

Feeling tears running down her cheeks, Hermione flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder and wept. She'd seen death, faced certain death, and saved others from just as certain death and there she was, sobbing her eyes out. She wasn't the battle-hardened warrior the _Daily Prophet_ made her out to be; she wasn't the calm and collected heroine the ministry claimed. She was the insecure girl terrified of parents' reactions to what she'd done to them in the name of protection and love; she was terrified of losing their love. Hermione sniffled as she pulled back at a loss for words.

"You got your hair cut," John stated with a smile.

Hermione felt a smile of her own fight its way to her face. "Yeah, a few days ago. I singed quite a bit of it during the final battle," she said, trailing off.

"It looks good," he said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

Her smile doubled in size. "Thank you," she said, surprised at how much the compliment meant to her. Both of them sat there smiling until their eyes met and they both burst out laughing.

"Now that's my Little Mouse," John said chuckling.

Hermione wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes. "That name hardly seems fitting anymore. I had my teeth shrunk almost three years ago, Dad."

John shook his head, "That wasn't why I called you _Little Mouse_. I've been calling you that since long before your permanent teeth grew in. Don't you remember? You used to give a little squeak of excitement when ever you knew the answer to a question your mum or I asked. You were always so excited to show us how much you knew."

A small smile snuck across her face. "I remember, but I'm not sure that I ever grew out of that habit."

"And you never cease to amaze us with all that you've learned."

Hermione looked away as she tried to regain her composure. She'd always striven to gain praise from her parents, especially in light of all of the odd things that had happened to her or those around her as a child. She hadn't - didn't want to seem like a burden in their eyes. Her father's gentle hand on her arm brought her back.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Let's go see what your mum whipped up."

***

"What have those ants gotten into?" Elizabeth asked as she walked out onto the back patio. The ants in the backyard, the front yard, in the house . . . had been one of the very few things that annoyed her about living in their small, Northern Territory town. Today, instead of roaming freely over everything, the little insects were clustered in an arch on the parameter of the small shaded space. It was an odd sight to say the least.

She heard John chuckle to her right. "You can thank your daughter for that."

Holding a translucent, brown bottle identical to John's and one Elizabeth herself was holding, Hermione forced a smile and took a drink before returning to staring blankly at their neighbor's palm tree.

Elizabeth took a seat in the lawn chair between her husband and daughter. "We should think about having you do that on the whole house as well. It would be lovely not having to worry about finding them in the sugar anymore."

Hermione nodded and slipped her drink, but kept her eyes trained on the tropical tree. Elizabeth shared a look with John and smiled sadly. The tale their daughter had told for the last two hours had been far from pleasant, both for her and her husband to hear and obviously for their daughter to tell. It was a tale of sociopaths and madmen (and women), corruption and tyranny, and monsters and demons (both figuratively and literally) . . . and she was only half way through her story.

By the time Elizabeth had suggested a break, Hermione had looked on the verge of breaking down, but now it seemed as if she couldn't have been further from it. She'd ended with a gut-wrenching memory of self-sacrifice that nearly cost her her life, the same one responsible for her nightmare that morning Elizabeth had concluded.

"How long ago did it happen?" she asked Hermione softly.

Her daughter stayed silent for so long that Elizabeth was afraid she hadn't heard her. "Almost two months."

"But it might as well have just happened for you."

Hermione gave no intention of confirming her mother's suspicions.

"Am I right?" Elizabeth asked.

Hermione finally looked over at her mother. "It happened over a month ago," she said in an uncharacteristically monotone voice.

"The physical event happened over a month ago, I got that. But I'm not asking about that, I want to know if, emotionally, the memory is still fresh, if it feels like it happened yesterday even."

Frustration and anger lit Hermione's tired eyes aflame. "What do you want me to say? That I . . . that I'm _emotionally scarred _and can't function daily without something reminding of that night? That more nights than not I'm _terrified_ of falling asleep because I know I'm _probably_ going to relive that night? Yes, okay! Some days it feels like happened yesterday, but that's not the point! If it hadn't have happened, we'd still probably be fighting and I wouldn't be here - hell, I'd probably be _dead_!"

Hermione felt the cloud of rage in her mind dissipate only to be replaced by remorse. _Why am I standing? I don't remember jumping to my feet. . . . Oh my g- I just screamed at Mum. Why?! She just wanted to know if I'm okay. . . . _Hermione felt tears sting her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't - I, I -" She sank down into her chair and let her face fall into her hands.

"That's why I asked, dear," Hermione heard her mum say tenderly as she rubbed her hand soothingly up and down her daughter's arm. "You can't just bottle something like this up and hope it goes away on its own. Let it out - tell us about it. Let us help you."

Hermione looked up and saw it was her dad who was rubbing comforting circles on her back. "Hermione, you can't go around thinking that you had to go through that to end the war, that you somehow _deserved_ it. You can't know that the war would still be going on if it hadn't happened. You can't rationalize something like this," he said sternly.

Forcing back a sob, Hermione nodded.

"Let's go back inside and get something to eat. If you want to talk about what happened you can, if not . . . well, you look like you could use some comfort food," Elizabeth offered.

John pulled Hermione to her feet, "Come on, Mouse. Your mum just brought home butter-pecan ice cream yesterday, can't pass on that now can we?"

"No, I guess we can't," Hermione said with a watery smile.

***

Though the melting, sugary dessert tasted delicious and quailed the slight hunger she'd felt, Hermione still felt empty and confused. She'd always been a rational person and took great pride in that, but now it seemed that even that was slipping away from her.

"So what happened after all of you after you left that awful place?"

Hermione looked over at her mother and felt a new wave of impatience, but kept it in check. "We used the information we gathered from that night and from the goblin and started planning our next move," Hermione said with a forced smile; she didn't want to continue her story just yet.

"That's not what I meant. Was everyone okay? . . . well except for the elf of course. How did Ron's brother and his wife react to everyone showing up at their home in the middle of the night? What happened between you and Ron? . . ."

Face burning, Hermione stared down at her melted ice cream. In her attempts to forget that night, she'd also forced herself to try to forget what passed between them that night as well like how gentle Ron was with her, how careful he was while he healed her wounds, how soothing his touch was . . .

"Hermione? Are you still with us?" she heard her dad ask.

"Yeah, I was just trying to remember that's all," she said much too quickly.

"Well? I'm actually more interested in your mum's first two questions, so you can skip that last one."

Hermione gave a short laugh. "Okay then. . . . Olivander had to stay at Bill and Fleur's for about a month before he was well enough to be moved again. Dean and Luna were fine, but stayed until we left. Harry - and well all of us really were torn up about Dobby's death and had a small funeral for him that morning. . . . Ron was shaken up a bit, but was okay."

"And you?" Elizabeth asked.

"I was rather sore for about a week, but everything healed quickly . . . physically anyway," Hermione added quickly at her mum's incredulous expression.

"Well that's good to hear. What about Bill and Fleur?"

"They were . . . surprised to say the least - and more than a bit annoyed when we told them we couldn't really tell them what was going on, but they took us all in and were wonderful. It was so nice not to have to sleep in a tent again."

"I bet it was. Now I don't care what your father says, I want to know what happened between you and Ron. Somehow I doubt the two of you just exchanged _thank you_s and _you're welcome_s and called it good."

Hermione suddenly found herself almost regretting telling her mother about her feeling towards one of her best friends . . . almost. "He was sweet and . . . we shed a few tears and he carried me into the house and healed as many of my wounds as he could," she said unable to look up from her bowl.

Elizabeth waited, but Hermione didn't elaborate. "What no confessions of undying love, no post-near-death snogging?"

"Oh come on now, Liz. Give her a break," John said uncomfortably. "Do we really need to know that?"

"I'd like to know, so yes. Well?"

Hermione looked up at her mum's expectant face. "No confessions of undying love, no post-near-death snogging," she said with a hint of a smile.

Her mum breathed out a sigh of annoyance, but it was her dad that asked incredulously, "The two of you almost _died_ and that still didn't inspire any sort of action? What's wrong with this boy? Did he get the sense knocked out of him in that basement?"

Elizabeth and Hermione stared at John in amazement. "Ho! I thought _you_ didn't care?" Elizabeth said.

"I don't care for the details, but _come on_! If certain death can't give him the kick in the pants he needs than I don't know what will."

"Well what about your daughter? - No offense, dear. - She could have done the confessing or snogged him. We can't just put all of the blame on Ronald."

"But she was in no condition to do either, were you, Mouse?"

Hermione stared blankly at her parents. "I had no idea the two of you put in so much thought into my personal life," she said in amazement.

"Well of course we do! After all, you are our only child. We want to make sure whoever you decide to spend the rest of your life with is good enough for you," John replied impatiently.

"Spoken like a true over-protective father," Elizabeth said.

Feeling both pairs of her parent's eyes on her, Hermione felt compelled to confess. "It wasn't from a lack of trying on either of our parts that nothing happened. It was just bad luck that Fleur walked into the room at the most inopportune moment."

"Ah . . . so we can't blame either of you then?" Elizabeth asked with a smile.

Hermione laughed. "I guess not. Because we all know how certain death _can_ be one hell of a kick in the pants after all."

Wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, Elizabeth said, "Does that mean the two of you are together now?"

"I'm not to that part of my story. I can't tell it out of order," Hermione said pleadingly.

"Oh fine then. I suppose we should let you have the rest of the night off," Elizabeth checked the time, "or what's left of it anyway."

"We have all of tomorrow to talk since the office is closed on Sundays. . . . You _did _call Alana this morning didn't you, Liz?"

"Of course I did, though she wasn't too thrilled to have to reschedule nearly a dozen appointments," Elizabeth said to her husband. "Will you be alright on the couch, dear?"

Hermione nodded.

"Okay then." The small family shared their hugs and _good night_s. Elizabeth and John were half way down the hall when John stopped and turned.

"You'll still be here in the morning, right? This isn't one of those things where you tell us what you've been up to and then turn around and leave, is it?"

Hermione bit her lip and pushed back the guilt. "Of course I'm not going anywhere. You'll probably be up before I will."

John nodded and smiled. "Good to hear. Good night, Mouse."

"Good night, Dad." Hermione was left standing alone in the vacant room with the dying fire. Though the guilt was still there, it had diminished greatly by simply telling her parents the truth about what she and the boys had been doing since she'd been gone. For the first time since the end of the war, the majority of the guilt she felt wasn't caused by what she'd done to her parents, but how she'd treated Ron before she left.

_I need to write to him_ _. . . but where am I going to find an owl?_

_A/N: That's actually a bit of a literal question, too. I've had some requests for post between our favorite couple, but I wouldn't mind a bit of input on this. As always, thanks for reading and reviewing (if you feel compelled to do so.)_


	9. Irritations and Irrationality

_A/N: Sorry for the delay (again) and thanks for sticking_ _around. It's come to my attention (by readers and myself) that the story can get a bit confusing jumping back and forth, though I'm not about to change the structure of the story this far into it, I can clarify a bit. This chapter starts while Hermione is driving to her parent's city and ends around the time Hermione and her mum talk before waking her dad. Until now the time line hasn't really been important, but it will a bit. Enjoy!_

Ronald Weasley was in a good mood, a slightly spiteful mood, but a good mood none the less. He was enjoying his breakfast with a smile of supreme smugness, occasionally chuckling under his breath at the couple sitting across the table from him.

"Don't know _what _they were thinking," his mother said none to quietly to herself.

Ron snorted into his juice, prompting a glare of death from his irate sister, while Harry on the other hand kept himself occupied by glancing over his shoulder every few seconds as if he was awaiting the sudden arrival of a Death Eater . . . or one of Ron's brothers.

"I thought I raised you better -" Molly started to say.

"We didn't do _anything_!" Ginny finally barked in frustration.

"Don't you take that tone with me, Ginevra. There is no excuse for -"

"We were just talking and I got upset and Harry -"

"You pulled Harry into it! The poor boy has been through enough without having to worry about your _feminine charms_," Molly shot back.

"My _WHAT_?!" Ginny shrieked before falling into silent indignation.

"Mrs. Weasley," Harry said trying to defuse the situation, "it was my idea to sleep with - _in the same room _with her. She was _really_ upset and I didn't feel comfortable leaving her alone for the night."

Molly studied him for a moment, "Be it as it may be, that still doesn't explain why the two of you had to _share_ a bed. There was a perfectly good cot in that room if I remember correctly."

Harry's face flushed deeply, but he remained silent.

Unease was plastered on Ginny's continence as she began, "It's - I was . . ." Ginny's face suddenly turned hard. "You're right, it doesn't. It won't happen again," she said briskly. "Excuse me."

It took Molly a moment to register that Ginny had left. "What on in Merlin's name was that about?" she asked in wonder, contemplating her daughter's sudden mood change and departure.

Harry cursed under his breath and stood. "Excuse me."

Ron and Molly watched Harry stride out of the room. "I'm so confused. What is going on?!" Molly asked.

"I have no idea," Ron said slowly, his spiteful-good mood quickly evaporating, "but I'm planning on staying out of it."

Molly sighed in defeat, "How am I supposed to talk to those two if they both up and leave like that?"

"No offense, Mum, but I don't think you were getting anywhere."

Molly stared at her son. "_Oh, is that so_?" she asked shortly.

Ron shifted uneasily in his chair. "I would normally love to take the mickey out of both of them, but I just don't think this is one of those times. Ginny's leaned on Hermione a lot since we got back and now that she's gone . . . Ginny must be leaning on Harry now."

"That's fine," Molly said with a sigh, "but they need to know that there are boundaries. I can't ignore that I found the two of them sleeping in the same bed. Your sister is still under-aged and Harry has been through so much that I doubt either of them are quite capable of making rational decisions on this front."

"So you're saying that if Ginny was of age and Harry didn't have a scar on his head you'd be okay with it?"

"Of course not! Bill and Fleur slept in separate rooms until their wedding and I'd _certainly_ expect those two to do the same."

Ron tried another tactic. "What I'm trying to say is that they're both mourning like the rest of us and need each other. . . . You and Dad have each other, so do Bill and Fleur. It's a bit difficult I imagine to schedule grief at convenient times." Ron continued a bit more softly, "From what Hermione's told me, Ginny seems to have a harder time with nights than during the day, so she's not going to need comfort when Harry can give it to her without getting into trouble."

Molly stared at her youngest son for a long time; her voice was thick with emotion when she did finally speak, "I don't know how I missed it, but you've grown into such a fine young man, Ronald. The way you've been looking out for Ginny and George . . . I'm so proud of you."

The burning in Ron's throat and ears was almost unbearable as he remembered Fred's funeral. He forced the lump back down his throat and said, "So does this mean you'll lay-off Ginny and Harry?"

"I'm by no means allowing them to share a room," Molly said sternly, but with a watery smile, "but I think it would be reasonable to allow them to use the kitchen or the sitting room if they need to make any late night meetings just as long as they don't abuse the privilege."

"That sounds fair enough to me." After a moment's hesitation, Ron stood and hugged his mum.

Molly pulled back and patted his cheek. "Hermione is such a lucky woman to have you." Though Ron's ears burned scarlet again, the guilt that flashed in his eyes was unmistakable and not missed by Molly. He mumbled something about cleaning his room and left the kitchen.

_I really should have a talk with Hermione_, Molly thought sadly. She hated to see her son so affected by his relationship with the young woman when she seemed so apathetic towards it. _But that might not be true, perhaps she is just better at hiding her emotions_. Molly shook her head. In all of the years she'd known the young woman she'd never known Hermione to wear her heart anywhere but her sleeve.

_Either way, we need to have a talk_.

***

Three hours later, Ron found himself in Diagon Alley. After actually cleaning his and Harry's room, Ron found himself with nothing to do. He pulled out the mess of hastily written thoughts from two days ago and read them over. Everything he'd wanted to say to Hermione before she left was scribbled before him, begging to be composed into something meaningful and coherent. So he did and after two hours and several drafts, he had a simple, yet meaningful missive.

But Ron was stumped, he didn't know if he should send his musings about their relationship to Hermione or not. _Would she want to read it? If she hasn't found her parents yet, it might not be able to get to her if she's constantly moving from city to __city. I don't have a clue where she is . . ._

In the end, Ron figured it was worth a shot either way, if she didn't get the letter, she wouldn't get it. If she did . . . Ron hoped she'd understand what she meant to him and how hard it was to be apart from her.

Along with the letter, Ron was carrying lunch for George. Like yesterday, his brother had left for his apartment before half of the family was even stirring. His mum was of course worried about George and asked Ron to check on his older brother.

Again avoiding Gringrotts and the anger the building inspired, Ron navigated his way to the post office at the far end of the street. The building was nearly empty with only one witch working behind the counter. Ron didn't have to wait long in line before he was helped.

"Good afternoon, sir. What can I help you with today?" the witch asked in a painfully chipper voice.

Ron held back a wince. "I need to send a letter, but I don't know where the recipient is-"

"We've been getting that a lot lately. As long as the recipient hasn't cast a concealment charm on him or herself or their location, your letter should find 'im. It'll just take a few days longer than your typical post. Of course, knowing your recipient's location within a continent or country can speed the process along."

"She should be in Australia, hopefully," Ron said as he handed her the letter.

"That'll help. If she can be found, it should take a day, maybe two tops to get it to her," she said while weighing out the letter. She was about to take it to calculate the cost of _postage_ when she did a double take at the name on the parchment. Her smile slipped from her face and she stared at Ron blankly for a moment before blushing crimson and turning away.

Ron felt his ears heat up and asked to ease the tension, "So how can an owl get all of the way to Australia and find my friend in just a day when it takes muggle airplanes nearly the same amount of time just to get there? Don't airplanes fly faster than owls?"

Still red-faced, but visibly relieved to have the tension eased, she explained, "I - I don't know much about muggle post, but we use the International Apparation Network to send post over longer distances and transfer it to owls or other birds in the desired country. Not only does it save on time, but it also helps keep muggles from getting suspicious since only birds native to the region are used."

"Cool - but I thought the IAN to Australia was still disconnected."

The witch turned and checked a long parchment hanging on the wall behind her; it listed several countries in two colors, either red or black. Ron spotted "Australia" in black ink near the top of the list. "It looks like it's connected. Must have just reconnected it recently, it was red yesterday," the witch said. "Is there anything else I can do for you today, Mr. Weasley?"

"I don't think so. What do I owe you?"

The young woman shook her head. "It's on us."

"I can't-"

"It's store policy. Any veteran of the Battle of Hogwarts can send any amount of post free of charge for the next two months. The flier is in the front window."

"Oh . . . uh - thanks, I guess," Ron mumbled.

"You're most welcome, Mr. Weasley," her chipper tone back with full force. "If there's ever _anything_ you need, just ask for _Beth_," she said with a subtly different smile and quite a bit of blinking.

Feeling confused, Ron simply said, "Okay," and started walking towards the door.

"Have a good day, Mr. Weasley!" Beth called after him.

There was no suppressing that cringe. "Yeah, you too," Ron said uncomfortably knowing everyone in line behind him was now gawking at him and whispering. It took more than a little self-control not to sprint from the building.

The cool breeze was refreshing for Ron as he trekked back through Diagon Alley towards WWW. His thoughts were a jumbled mess; sure he liked having the title of _war-hero_, but he hadn't counted on being recognized everywhere he went. He'd only been to the shopping hub twice since the war ended and hadn't enjoyed the type of extra attention he'd received either time. Ron had never been a fan of people whispering about him behind his back.

The new security charm, though quicker and not as strong, was still tedious to remove and required Ron's full attention to undo. Getting into the apartment was much easier, a partially concealed key was hidden in the store's logbook. George's theory was if a person could undo the security charm on the store front, then there was no reason to think that they wouldn't be able to break into the apartment, too.

Taking a deep breath, Ron climbed the stairs in the back room to the apartment and knocked loudly. "Hey, George it's me - I brought food." Ron waited a minute. "George, you in there? Mum just wanted me to drop you off some lunch." Ron waited a moment longer. "Okay I'm coming in."

The room Ron walked into was nothing short of a disaster zone; half filled boxes laid scattered on the sofa and floor amidst crumpled newspaper, used presumably as packing material. Half of the cupboards stood open and empty.

Ron took a tentative step across the room towards the only closed door in the apartment. "George, are you here, mate?" He walked to the door and knocked. "George, I brought you lunch. Are you there?" Ron heard a bit of shuffling behind the door just before it opened.

"Hey, mate. Must not of heard you knock. You can leave the food in the kitchen if you can find room for it," George said in a forced voice. His face was pale and his eyes were ringed with dark circles as if he hadn't slept for days.

Startled by his brother's sickly appearance, Ron asked, "Are you okay, George?"

George's smile faltered, before he said in an overly upbeat voice, "Yeah, I'm fine, Ronnie. It's just hard work packing, you know?"

Ron nodded slowly, "I guess so. Did you want some help?"

"No, no - I'm good. Tell Mum thanks for the food, alright?" George was fidgeting like mad.

"You sure you're okay-"

"Yes, you wanker!" George quickly regained his composure, "Merlin, Ronnie. What do I need to do to get you to see that?"

"You can stop messing with that coin for more than a minute for starters," Ron said referring to George's fidgeting.

George quickly stuffed the coin and his hands in his pockets. "Happy? Now if you don't mind, I've got a lot to do."

Ron threw up his hands in defeat and walked towards the door, "Okay, okay. Have it your way, boss." Ron stopped and took a look at the apartment. "Why are you moving out, George?"

"Because I don't need a two bedroom flat." George had given up on his pseudo-pleasant mood and opted for an openly hostile one.

"Yeah I guess not," Ron said lamely. "I - Then why . . . If you're moving out than why only pack half of the stuff at a time? Why jump from one thing to the next?"

"I have a short attention span," George said humorlessly.

Ron cautiously walked back towards George. "I'm sure you do. There isn't a _single_ box in here that's fully packed, that's sealed for moving. This isn't going to bring him back or make you forget-" was all Ron got out before George slammed him hard against the wall by his shirt front.

"You don't think I don't know that?! You think I'm deluded enough to think that any of this will make the pain go away?! I've got news for you, you bloody wanker, I KNOW!" Though George was shorter than Ron, he had at least twenty pounds on his younger brother and kept him in place easily.

"Yeah? Then put what's left of Fred into those bloody boxes and be done with it! Put everything that reminds you of him into those bits of cardboard and put them in the attic and pretend he never existed! That's what you're trying to do isn't it? While Mum builds a mini-shrine for Fred back home above the fireplace, you're trying to forget him," Ron's voice shook with emotion and rage.

George glared at Ron with more hatred than he'd ever felt in his life and pulled out his wand. "That's what you think I'm doing?" he asked nervously.

Ron ignored the wand jabbed in his side. "Yeah, I do. What are you going to do, hex me? Torture me? I don't bloody care what you do. He's GONE, George! Beat the hell out of me if it makes you feel better, just don't - don't pack him away, don't forget him. He - he's gone. He's not coming back," Ron finished in a choked sob.

"He left us, he left ME! How could he do that to me?! How could he just leave without - without-" George couldn't finish his thought. He dropped his wand and let himself be dragged into Ron's arms. The two stood, gripping each other's backs tightly as they gave into the pain of their grief.

***

"I'm sorry, mate. I don't know what came over me," Ron said as he and George shared the lunch Molly packed over butterbeers.

"Don't be, I needed to here it," George said dejectedly.

"Move out if that's what you really want to do-"

"No, you're right. I can't leave, not yet anyway." George let out a long sigh., "I just don't know what I'm going to do with that room."

Ron thought for a moment. "If you don't still want to kill me, I could move in with you."

George took his time to answer. "I could move into Fred's room and you could have my old one. That might work. At least that way I can make sure you get your arse out of bed for work."

Ron smiled for the first time in what felt like hours. "Yeah and I can finally get out of the Burrow."

"Ha! It's not all fun and games living on your own, mate. I'll expect you to do most of the cooking and cleaning around here."

"What? You've got to be kidding me!"

George smiled mischievously, "Well at least most of the cleaning. I'm not sure about your cooking abilities yet."

Ron rolled his eyes and finished his drink. "So do you want my help moving things around or not?"

"Tomorrow. I'll get things sorted out today and make you do the heavy lifting tomorrow," George said seriously.

"Sounds good to me," Ron said as he rose. "Should I tell Mum you'll be home for dinner?"

George nodded and stood as well. "Thanks, Ronnie. If anyone asks-"

"_That_ -" Ron said gesturing behind him at the wall they'd argued and mourned at, "never happened."

"Yeah, I suppose I owe you one, for knocking some sense into me."

Ron shook his head. "That was as much for you as it was for me."

"Not even a _just remember that when I need some alone time with my girl_ or are you as old fashion as Mum would like to think we are?"

Ron felt his ears begin to burn. "That's assuming I have a girl to spend some alone time with," he mumbled.

George frowned and asked incredulously, "What do you mean if _I have a girl_? Are you saying you and Hermione aren't an item now?"

"It's complicated," Ron said uncomfortably. "We didn't part on the best of terms and I'm not sure if she'd want to be with me when she gets back."

"_Bloody hell_," George swore under his breath. "Okay, mate, there are two things you need to know. First, Hermione is crazy about you. If you too were fighting before she left, it was probably due to stress. Second, you're a Weasley, Ron. For some odd but fortunate reason, we Weasleys have the super-natural ability to attract members of the opposite sex with extreme ease. Even our dearest sister seems to be well aware of the ability and has used it to her advantage."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Don't mention that to Mum or Ginny might be in for another lecture."

George grinned wickedly. "I was just about to leave this morning when she found them. That was by far one of her better rants."

"Yeah, woke me up all the way in the attic. I guess I'll just have to wait to hear from 'Mione, I sent her a letter today and had to practically run here just to avoid the mob following me after the post-witch announced to the world who I was."

"See, the Weasley genes at work."

"Yeah, something like that. If you need anything, just Floo. I'm not going anywhere else today but home."

George nodded and shook Ron's hand. "Really, mate, thanks."

"Yeah, that's what brothers are for, right?"

"Yeah."

***

Ron walked back to the Burrow feeling more at ease than he'd felt since the end of the war. He was able to once again take in his surroundings and enjoy the natural beauty of his childhood home; it was as if he was seeing it for the first time in years.

"Is that you, Ron?" he heard his mum ask as he hung up his cloak. Ron walked into the kitchen where Molly was busy starting dinner. "You were gone a while, is everything alright?"

Ron nodded, "George and I had a chat, he says he'll be back in time for dinner."

Molly beamed. "That's wonderful, dear," she said as she lightly smacked her son's sneaking fingers away from the unfinished dessert.

"Where are Ginny and Harry?" Ron asked rubbing his fingers.

"Out back flying. Your father and Kingsley extended the security charm this morning to cover all of our property, so you lot can get out of the house a bit more."

"Thanks, Mum," Ron said as he raced out of the kitchen to the broom shed.

He spotted Ginny and Harry tossing apples to one another and waved. Before he could even mount his broom, Ginny bolted toward him and flung her arms around his neck nearly choking Ron. "Easy, Gin. Feel free to slow down a bit before doing that next time."

"I don't know what you said to Mum," Ginny gushed, "but thank you for saying it. She went from wanting to fit me for a chastity belt to a normal, understanding human-being."

"Oh - come on, it wasn't that bad," Ron started to say until he saw the look on Ginny's face. "Or maybe it was."

Harry joined the siblings and patted Ron roughly on the back. "I thought Mrs. Weasley was going to kick me out for sure, mate. Thanks."

"Come off it!" Ron said trying to hide his wince from the pain in his already sore back. "You're family, even if you are snogging my sister, and Mum wouldn't dream of throwing out family."

"Yeah, I suppose . . . Hey, let's get back in the air. Ten months is too long to go without riding a broom."

Ron pretended not to notice Harry's deliberate attempt to change the subject and simply agreed. "No arguments there, mate," he said before they all took flight.

***

"What are you all doing home so early? I wasn't expecting any of you lot for another two hours at least," Molly said in surprise as she watched Charlie, Percy, and Arthur walk into the kitchen. "Minister, what a surprise! Will you be staying for dinner?" she asked upon seeing Kingsley.

"Come now Molly, we've known each other _far_ too long for those sorts of formalities," Kingsley said with a tired smile. "I was actually hoping to intrude upon your company for the evening, if you don't mind too much."

"Of course not, Kingsley. _You_ know you're always welcome here - but to what do we owe the pleasure?"

"We've had a rash of good luck at the ministry today and Kingsley here thought that since it _is _Friday and we've all been feeling a bit over-worked, we'd take a few hours off tonight," Charlie said as he uncapped a bottle of butterbeer.

"That's wonderful to hear, boys. What exactly does all of this good luck entail?"

"We'll tell you just as soon as Ginny, Ron, and Harry get in here," Arthur said as he began pouring shots of Fire Whiskey for himself, Kingsley, and Percy. Charlie looked at his butterbeer with distaste and eyed Percy's shot.

"It had better be extraordinary news if it warrants drinking like that," Molly said in a slightly disapproving tone.

"It does, don't worry, Mum," Percy said as he reached for his shot. "Besides, I believe we've earned-" Percy stared at the glass bottle in his hand for a moment before shrugging and continuing, "We've earned it, Kingsley especially. You've been working sixteen hour days for the last week and a half haven't you, sir?"

Kingsley nodded as he poured himself another shot. "I'm very thankful to have a couch in my office."

The room dissolved into mirth as Ginny, Ron, and Harry entered the room. "Okay, what is _so_ important that we're being forced to miss out on valuable flying time?" Ginny asked impatiently.

"Sit, everyone," Arthur said in an authoritative voice. "I think we'll start with the most pressing news - Charlie."

The dragon tamer jumped to his feet, Percy's shot in hand. "First off," Charlie paused for suspense, "the _Golden Trio_ will NOT be facing charges for their Gringrotts heist! You lot can thank Bill and me by getting us both large bottles of Oden's finest for Christmas this year - on top of whatever else you'll all be getting us of course."

"And just how did you manage that one?" Molly asked over the clapping and laughter.

Charlie grinned mischievously. "Bill and I took our favorite goblin aside this morning and let him know that we had some rather incriminating evidence against him, evidence that proved that he helped our lot break in. We informed him that we intended to share that evidence with his mates if he didn't back off."

"_Do_ you have incriminating evidence against him?" Harry asked before Molly could object to her sons' use of blackmail.

"Ron assured me last night that Hermione _probably_ had some sort of documentation detailing your plans for the heist that we could link to Griphook if we needed to," Charlie said in an off-hand manner.

"And Kingsley is just fine with yours and Bill's blackmailing scheme?" Molly asked testily.

"Call it what you want, but blackmail is not how I see it," Kingsley said seriously. "You have to understand how goblin society works. Had Charlie and Bill ousted Griphook for the traitor he was to his kind, we'd have far bigger problems to deal with than criminal complaints and missing dragons. To find out that one of their own had sold them out to wizards would cause a massive upheaval in their society since Griphook happens to hold one of their highest leadership positions at the moment. The resulting power-struggle would not likely end quickly and would cripple the banking industry until it'd be resolved. If it only lasted a week, then we'd be fine, but if we're talking months . . . Our economy and moral is weak enough as it is. To be honest, it wouldn't take much to permanently cripple either at the moment."

"And it's not like they were left empty-handed either, Mum," Percy spoke up. "Bill and Charlie were able to come to a reasonable compromise with the other goblins that included a generous amount of financial aide for the restoration of their underground structure and a team of Unspeakables contracted out to them to help develop new security measures for the bank since they won't be receiving another dragon."

"Everyone's happy, Mum - well, except Griphook of course," Charlie said with an innocent smile.

Molly gave a huff of defeat.

"This way we can avoid a potential financial crisis and a goblin relations nightmare and it's still within the confines of the law . . . for the most part," Arthur said reassuringly. "But that's only part of the good news - Percy, if you would."

"Though we were unable to charge the Malfoys with any serious crimes," Percy said taking a sip of his drink, "we are able to make them pay through the nose in fines from searches of their home this past week. It seems that the other Death Eaters who took refuge at their manor forgot to bring many of their belongings with them, especially those of a dark and/or cursed variety."

"I guess that's better than nothing," Ginny said.

"With the amount they'll be paying, they might as well be single-handedly financing the repairs to Gringrotts," Arthur said with a satisfied smile.

"But that's hardly the best news of the day," Charlie said, flashing a grin at a confused Ron.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Ron asked him uneasily.

"This bit requires a bit of a story," Kingsley said before Charlie could reply, "that starts in a small restaurant in Sydney yesterday morning - or afternoon if we're going by local time."

Ron shifted uncomfortably.

"Aurors arrived to investigate a report of magic preformed on a muggle, which is a criminal offense in Sydney, only to find the aftermath of a violent clash between two small-time drug dealers and their thugs - a territory dispute, but that's not important. The aurors were able to locate a group of muggles that had witnessed the beginning of the confrontation across the street in a specialty grocery store, among them was a semi-lucid woman covered in blood clutching a child. They claimed a group of men entered the restaurant and argued with another already at the establishment. After a time, one of the men drew a .22, that's a gun - a muggle weapon, and started shooting. As it turned out, the man had ingested some mind altering substance before arriving at the restaurant which greatly effected his aim. As a result, a muggle woman was hit in the back by mistake, but luckily a young woman also in the restaurant noticed and helped the woman's child to safety before going back for the injured woman."

"Merlin, were the muggles still . . . still fighting when she went back?" Ginny asked.

Charlie nodded, "That girl has more stones than most of the blokes Bill and I've been working with this week."

"As it turns out, our courageous young woman is a witch and was able to heal the muggle's life threatening wound, which is what caused the alarm at the Sydney Ministry, and deliver her to the safety of the grocery store and to her terrified child. Unfortunately, the witch was injured, shot, as she helped the muggle escape-"

"Was it serious?" Harry asked as he shared a look with Ron.

"Enough to hurt like hell, but not life threatening. Nicked her shoulder didn't it?" Charlie asked Kingsley.

"Did you want to tell the story, Charlie?" Kingsley asked bemused.

"No, no - I just want you to get to the good part."

Kingsley chuckled, "I'm getting there. Yes, it was her shoulder. Now on top of being injured, the poor young woman didn't know about the ministry's law about muggles and magic, so when she saw a group of aurors approach their safe-haven she bolted out the back door and ran on foot."

"Why didn't she Apparate?" Molly asked entranced.

"The aurors figured she wasn't from the area and had no place to Apparate to. One gave chase while the other aurors assessed the muggles. Now as their minister puts it, the woman managed to Apparate to the top of a nearby building just as one of his best aurors catches sight of her. He follows and long story short, the auror ends up on his knees while the young woman chucks his wand over the side of the building. She Apparates again, without harming or stunning the auror, to another rooftop. The auror calls for backup and after a struggle she is caught, healed, then brought to the ministry for questioning."

"But she saved that muggle's life!" Harry nearly shouted. Ron agreed, but the dead weight in his gut had numbed his tongue.

"Yes, but her actions were very suspicious. Innocent people don't usually flee from aurors."

"They do if the ministry they work for is corrupt!"

Kingsley smiled sadly. "Too true, Harry, and it would seem that was her thinking at the time."

"So you're saying she's from here?" Ginny asked sharing a look with Harry and Ron.

"They had no way of telling at the time since she refused to talk to them, at least while she was still injured. It wasn't until one of the aurors recognized the young woman from a photo in their newspaper did they realize who they had just arrested."

"Hermione," Ron said flatly.

Kingsley nodded, "She cooperated fully with the Sydney Ministry when she realized the irrationality of her actions."

"Oh my - They didn't charge her, did they?" Molly asked.

"No, they realized immediately the delicate nature of the situation, what with her being a foreigner and a bit of a celebrity . . . and the reason for the arrest of course-"

"They'd bloody well not have," Ron growled angrily.

Kingsley ignored Ron's displaced hostility. "The minister himself told Miss Granger she was free to go under the condition that she stay out of the media and lay low. He also used the opportunity to discuss me and the state of our ministry. Minister Rudman came to my office today to tell me all of this and that he planned to provide our ministry with as many resources as they could spare to help us pick up the pieces of our society and was currently seeking out other countries to join the cause. As of an hour ago, nearly three-quarters of our past allies have reestablished communication and pledged not only funds, but aurors to help round up the remaining Death Eaters."

"Oh that's wonderful!" Molly said.

"We still have a long way to go, but this will help greatly," Kingsley said with a smile.

"So there is a bright side to Hermione nearly getting killed and charged for saving someone's life." Ron said sarcastically.

"It's unfortunate that things happened the way they did, but some good did come from it," Percy said.

"Ease up, Ron," Charlie said slapping him on the shoulder. "She's fine and we're finally getting somewhere with international relations."

Ron shrugged Charlie off and walked to the door. "Yeah, sure," he said before leaving the kitchen.

"What crawled up his arse?" Charlie asked annoyed.

"He wanted to go with her, to make sure Hermione stayed safe, but she said she needed to go alone and that she couldn't take him from his family," Harry explained tiredly. "That's the same explanation she gave me, too."

"That daft girl," Molly said in frustration. "She's just as much part of this family as you are."

"That's what I told her!" Harry left the kitchen to find Ron.

It didn't take Harry long to spot Ron across the yard throwing apples at a nearby tree. Harry didn't say a word but picked his own apples and began chucking them at Ron's tree.

"Why did I let her go alone?!" Ron growled as he pelted the tree savagely. "I knew it was a bad idea, but I let her go anyway. She said she'd be fine and I believed her - She's supposed to be the smart one!"

"Don't beat yourself up too much, mate. I believed her, too," Harry said picking up another apple and tossing it to Ron. "I have half a mind to demand that Kingsley set up a portkey to wherever she's at tonight."

Ron watched his piece of fruit disintegrate as it hit the tree. "So what's stopping you?" he panted angrily.

"For one, it's like three or four in the morning where she's at. Secondly," Harry paused to throw his apple, "she's trying to avoid media attention, so I don't think having the _boy-who-lived_ show up somewhere randomly in Australia blowing her cover will do her any favors. And third . . . I really don't feel like getting hexed tonight, especially by someone who is already on edge from nearly catching a bullet in the head."

Ron snorted. "I'm not worried about pissing her off - I'll give her just as good as I get." Ron seemed lost in thought for a moment. "I don't see any reason why I can't go," he said as he started walking back to the house.

Harry stood stunned for a moment, before he jogged to catch up. "Are you serious? You don't know the first thing about blending in in the muggle world!"

"I do to-"

"This isn't the same as buying a cappuccino at a diner, Ron. It's more complicated than tha-"

"If you're so worried, then come with me!"

Harry didn't say anything for a moment. "Okay, fine I'll go with you, but you can deal with her hexes."

"Fine by me." They walked back into the kitchen just as Percy was setting the table. "Kingsley, Harry and I need a portkey to Australia tonight."

Kingsley's expression didn't waver, but it was Arthur that spoke up. "And just why might the two of you be needing one of those?"

"We need to talk to Hermione," Harry said seriously.

Arthur shook his head sadly. "If either of you would have stuck around for another minute, you'd have heard Kingsley say that she was last seen boarding an airplane to Alice Springs."

"So what's the problem? We need a portkey to Alice Springs then," Ron said impatiently.

"The problem is that the Alice Spring airport caters to dozens of its surround cities and towns. She could be in Alice Springs, she could be in one of the surrounding towns, or she could have connected with another flight to somewhere else," Kingsley explained. "Finding her would be like finding a needle in a haystack."

"Well okay then, we'll just need a portkey to wherever her parents are," Ron reasoned.

Kingsley shook his head. "No one knows where they are, unless Hermione has found them then she'd know of course. The Sydney minister didn't know the reason behind Hermione's trip to Australia, so it's safe to assume she hasn't asked for help. I'm sorry, boys, but I can't issue a portkey until we find out more."

Ron groaned in frustration and fell into a chair; Harry resisted the urge to go back outside and throw more apples and took a seat next to Ron.

"Here ya go, lads," Charlie said as he placed two shots in front of Ron and Harry. "Drink up and relax. If Hermione can take on armed drug dealers and aurors, I think she'll be just fine on her own for a bit longer."

"Charlie, I don't want you passing on your bad habits to them," Molly said sternly. "They don't need to drink every time they get upset."

"Hey, I drink when I want to, not because I'm feeling emotional," Charlie said defensively.

"Of course you don't, dear." Harry and Ron snorted into their shots.

Charlie walked over to the sink and drew himself a glass of water. "See, water. I'm annoyed and I'm drinking wa-_ter_."

"I see that," Molly said in a patronizing tone. "Now could you please get water for everyone else. I think you've all had plenty to drink."

Dinner was relaxed despite Charlie's self-inflicted temperance and Harry's and Ron's worry for their friend. George arrived on time and announced his and Ron's plan to stay in his apartment and run the shop. Though sadden by the thought of her sons leaving the Burrow, Molly accepted the news with a brave smile and her blessing under the condition that they visit at least twice a week on top of attending Sunday dinner every weekend.

A few hours later found Ron laying on his bed enjoying the cool breeze blowing through his window while he flipped through a Quidditch magazine. "Come in," he said lazily at the knock at his door.

In walked Percy looking a bit unsure of himself, but determined none the less. "I'm sorry we aren't able to do more for you and Harry about Hermione," he said as he stood next to Ron's bed.

Ron shook his head. "If I hadn't let her go by herself, none of this would have happened. It's my fault I can't do anything."

"What if she needed to go alone because she needed to remind herself what it's like being on her own, having to rely solely on herself?" Percy asked hesitantly.

Ron sat up. "I don't follow you."

Percy sat down next to Ron. "What I'm saying is that sometimes, being alone can teach a person just how much they need the people they care about. She spent nearly ten months with you and Harry, not a day on her own. Maybe she needed to remember just why she spends so much time with the two of you."

Heaving a tired sigh, Ron stared blankly at the cover of his magazine. "I don't know what she's thinking anymore. She just seems have been making more irrational choices in the last week than she has in all of the time I've known her."

"But haven't all of us been doing that? The violence of war, mourning the death of our friends and family - it clouds our judgment and alters our logic. Hermione's is just more noticeable because her irrational choices nearly got her killed yesterday. But, Ron - the moment I hear of her location, you'll be the first to know. You have my word."

"Thanks, Perce," Ron said clapping Percy on the shoulder.

"It's the least I can do," he said standing.

"I know I've said it all ready, but it's good to have you back."

Percy smiled. "Thanks, Ron. Good night."

"Night."

Alone in his room again thought about Percy's reasoning. _Maybe I need to remind myself just as much as she does,_ he thought. His desire to yell at her until he lost his voice was gone; it was replaced by anxiety and sadness. _Just stay safe so I can hold you again, Mione._

_A/N: Thanks for reading (and reviewing if you do) and thanks for all of the input on the owl thing, it was very helpful. As a final note about this chapter, I know the post office is only mentioned in the books as being in Hogsmeade, but I'm assuming there is also one in Diagon Alley. Thanks again for reading!_


	10. Letters and Lectures

_A/N: Hey, thanks for reading and coming back for more! After a month of fiddling with this chapter, I think it's finally acceptable by my standards(and hopefully by yours as well) and is ready for posting. As a thank you for your continuing support, I present to you an R/Hr moment. Enjoy!_

_***_

"_I'm not arguing with you, Ronald," Hermione said in irritation as she walked towards the Burrow._

_Ron groaned in frustration. "I'm not trying to argue with you! I just want to talk to you about-"_

"_I really don't have anything else to say on the subject," Hermione said shortly as she turned to face him. She had only told Ron about her plans to go to Australia yesterday; since then, things between them had been more than a bit tense._

"_That's fine, you don't have to say anything. I just want you to listen," Ron countered._

"_We've gone over this already! You can't come, period, end of story. Your family needs you, Ron! I'm not about to take you away from them," Hermione tried to reason._

"_My family survived just fine without me for nearly ten months, a few more weeks isn't-"_

"_That was before they lost Fred!" Hermione nearly shouted. "Take a long hard look at your mother, and tell me she'll be just fine without you for _a few more weeks_," she said softly._

_Ron shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, well what about you?"_

"_What about me?"_

"_Like it or not you're part of this family, Hermione. _You _look at my mother and tell me that you don't think your leaving is going to affect her."_

"_That's different! I'm _like _a daughter to her, not her actual daughter. She, and the rest of your family, need the people they're closest to, meaning their immediate family," Hermione said in frustration._

_Ron shook his head in disbelief. "You really don't get it, do you?"_

"_Get what?"_

"_Being part of this family has nothing to do with blood, it's about being there through thick and thin. It's about relying on one another, trusting the people you care about. You've been there for us and we've been there for you! Yeah, you can argue that there are parts of our childhood that you can't relate to, but that doesn't matter. Mum _especially _has treated you just like any of the rest of us," Ron said in a pleading voice, desperate to get her to understand._

_Hermione pushed back the tears threatening to fall; Ron had hit a nerve she'd tried for years to ignore. "What about fourth year? What about that mess caused by Rita Skeeter that your mum bought into?"_

"_Wha-" Ron stopped himself as the full meaning of her words hit him. "Merlin, everyone bought into it, Hermione, not just my mum!"_

"_Yes, but it proves my point," Hermione silenced Ron with a look as he tried to interrupt. "When Percy left, everyone in your family disowned him _except _for your mum. Regardless of what Percy did, she still treated him like her son. All it took was one article from Rita, one article, Ron, and she disowned me. I'm not holding it against her, but that's the difference between being _like _a daughter and actually _being _a daughter. I'm still an outsider to the family in her eyes, intruding on __your family's grief."_

_Hermione turned away, unable to take the look of surprised sadness on Ron's face that looked a hell of a lot like pity; she didn't want his pity or anyone else's, she was just sick of being patronized. _

"_That was three years ago, Hermione," Ron said softly. "A lot has changed since then."_

"_I agree," she whispered._

"_If you won't take me, then take Harry at least."_

_Hermione turned back to him. "Why?"_

"_Because I need to know that you won't be alone, that someone will have your back if you need it."_

"_I'll be fine on my own, Ron. Besides after everything Harry's been through, he deserves to relax, not to have to follow me all over Australia for Merlin knows how long searching for my parents."_

"_Sod Harry - You've been through plenty, too," Ron said in disbelief. "You're always doing that, putting everyone else's needs before your own! Be selfish for once in your life!"_

_Though momentarily rendered speechless, Hermione forced her shaking knees to move and stood directly in front of Ron. "You want me to be selfish?" she asked trying to hold back the wave of emotions threatening to over take her._

_Ron stared down at her for a moment before answering, "Yeah, I d-" Hermione didn't wait for him to finish his answer before pulling his mouth down to hers and kissing him fiercely. Ron responded immediately by lifting her off the ground and pinning her against the tree beside her as he moved his lips in rhythm with hers. Hermione refused to let him take control and placed her feet flat against the trunk of the tree and used them and her shoulders to arch her body flush against his; she felt him groan aggressively as she threaded her fingers through his hair and gripped him tighter._

_It wasn't until she began to feel dizzy did Hermione break the kiss, but even then it wasn't for air but surprise as one of Ron's hands found its way to her arse and squeezed it roughly. Ron took advantage of Hermione's break in concentration and began nibble his way down her neck. Hermione let her head fall back against the tree and muttered incoherently as each bite toed closer to the thin line separating pleasure and pain. _

_Unable to stand her pleasure induced restlessness any longer, Hermione pulled Ron's lips back up to hers and explored his mouth again. They were both so angry, so frustrated, Hermione could have sworn she could feel every ounce of every emotion being put into their embrace by both of them. She could hardly remember the last time they'd been so open with each other._

_Hermione felt as if every nerve in her body was on fire and when she felt him slide his thigh between her knees she half expected her over stimulated brain to melt into a puddle of gray matter. Instead she turned her head away and gasped desperately for air as her body tensed in a most blissful way. She opened her hazy eyes in time to watch a flash of silver stop in front of her and Ron._

"_Ron!" she rasped as she pointed to the glowing weasel. Ron tore his lips from Hermione's neck in time to watch his dad's patronus open its mouth._

"_Time for dinner, kids. Hurry back," it said before disappearing. _

_Hermione leaned her head back against the tree again as Ron let his rest on her shoulder while they both tried to coax their bodies into relaxing. Hermione nearly whimpered at the loss of contact as Ron stepped back and helped her down. Using a simple healing spell on both of their lips and her neck, Hermione was able to erase most of the visual evidence of their snog, while a rather unpleasant cooling charm took care of their flushed faces and lingering arousal. _

"_We should get going," Hermione said avoiding Ron's eyes. Ron nodded and followed her back from the pond to the Burrow. "You know that didn't change anything. I'm not bringing you or Harry," she said as they neared the kitchen._

"_Yeah, I know," Ron said quietly._

_Pushing aside the guilt and shame squirming in her gut, Hermione forced a smile and led the way into the crowded kitchen. . . ._

Hermione woke with a small start. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, or at least she hadn't thought she'd be able to. Her once steaming half cup of tea was now as cool as the early morning air of the patio.

Her dream, or memory rather, left her with bitter-sweet feelings of excitement and regret. What happened that night confounded her to no end; she'd never envisioned herself being so forward . . . or so cruel.

_But he flat out told me to be selfish! _she thought angrily.

_That's not what he meant and you knew it,_ her voice of reason whispered.

Allowing self-loathing to consume her mind, Hermione stared dejectedly out at her parents' backyard. Though black as pitch when she first sat down nearly an hour ago, the winter sky was slowly brightening to a dull lilac. Across the yard, perched on the weather-worn fence separating her parents' yard from their neighbors' was a small, grayish-brown bird sleeping with a bit of parchment tied to its leg.

Hermione lifted the protective charm she'd put up to ward off insects and snakes and walked towards the bird. "Aren't you a beautiful little bird? Do you have something for me, or are there more wizards in the area?" she asked softly to wake the bird.

The bird straightened up to nearly double its height and held out its leg with dignity. "I'm afraid I don't have any treats, but I can get some water if you'd like," she said as she untied the letter. Her hands began to shake as she recognized the messy script bearing her name. "Actually, I need you to stick around, I'll have a letter for you in a bit."

After watering the frog-mouthed little bird, Hermione sat back down in her lawn chair and stared at the parchment. Had something happened? Was everyone okay? What was so important that Ron needed to contact her after only four days?

She broke the seal and read:

_Dear Hermione,_

_How are you? Not much has changed here except Bill and Fleur are gone and I'm helping George reopen the shop. How is your search going, do you need anything? We all miss you and can't wait for you to come home._

_I'm sorry about how things were when you left. I know you're more than capable of taking care of yourself, but I still worry about you constantly. I didn't mean to drive you away by dogging you about your trip so much, but I don't think I could ever forgive myself if something happened to you because you needed help and no one was there for you. So I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm sorry and that I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me (again)._

_As far as _that _night goes, I still stand by what I said, I still think you need to remember your own needs and be selfish every now and then. I don't regret what happened, only that things between us became strained and uncomfortable. I thoroughly enjoyed it and if my memory is correct, you did, too. If for whatever reason I'm wrong, than I apologize and will to avoid putting you in similar situations in the future. (It'll be extremely difficult, but if that's what you want then I'll try my best to respect your wishes.)_

_I guess that's about all that I needed to say, so I'll let you get back to your search or whatever. Just know that I miss you and love you and can't wait until you return._

_Your knight in second-hand armor,_

_Ron_

_P.S. If you ever need help being _selfish _again, feel free to let me know and I'll see what I can do to help._

Hermione felt hysterical; she wanted to laugh, to cry, to find Ron and take him up on his offer. . . .

After finding her notebook and pen, she hastily penned a reply and sent the bird on its way ten minutes later. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, Hermione went back inside and laid down on the couch. She felt so many different emotions, though self-loathing wasn't one of them. She closed her eyes and slept peacefully for the first time in over a week.

***

"So he faked his own death, snuck back into the fight, _and_ killed the psychopath? I have to say, that's pretty ballsy," John said leaning back in his chair.

"You can hardly say Harry _actually_ killed him. He told Voldemort what would probably happen if he tried to kill Harry, but he didn't listen. Harry's spell should have only disarmed him, not reversed Voldemort's killing curse on to himself," Hermione explained.

John shrugged his shoulders. "Dead is dead in the end."

"That's such a lovely thought," Elizabeth said sarcastically. "What happened after that? Did the fighting stop?"

"For the most part. There were a few Death Eaters who regained consciousness after Voldemort's death who put up a fight, but otherwise it ended there."

Hermione and her parents sat in silence, sipping their lemonades. "How are the Weasleys doing?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

"Better by the time I left," Hermione said uneasily. "I'd have come looking for you two earlier, but there were just so many funerals. It seemed wrong to leave without paying my respects. Fred's was the last one."

"We understand, dear," her mother said as she put an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Well - maybe not to the same extent, but we get it. It helps bring closure."

Hermione was silent for a moment. She'd finally finished her narrative after nearly two days of explaining and dozens of questions, but now she had a question of her own. "Why aren't either of you angry with me?" she asked in confusion.

John rubbed his face warily. "Now don't jump the gun, Mouse. Your mother and I are angry, quite angry to be honest."

"We agreed to move to Australia when you explained the situation last summer. We closed our practice, boarded up our home, we even told our friends we were going on sabbatical and wouldn't be able to contact them," Elizabeth explained. "We did all of that under the impression that you were finally keeping us in the loop, that you trusted us-"

"I _do_ trust you and Dad-" Hermione tried to plea.

"If you trusted us you wouldn't have made us forget about you!" John exclaimed.

"What choice did I have?!" Hermione yelled back. "I had no idea when I'd be back, if I ever came back _at all_! I couldn't just leave knowing it could be years before I'd ever contact you two again, let alone visit. I wasn't about to let both of you worry about me for . . ." Hermione trailed off at the sight of her mum's pained face.

"First of all, nothing gives you the right to decide how we can and cannot feel," she said with a startling calmness. "That is our God-given right and nothing in the world should be able to take that from us. Secondly, we are your parents. It's part of our responsibility to worry about you, not the other way around."

Hermione wanted to speak, to say the words screaming in her mind, but her body had gone numb at her mother's words.

"You have to understand, that as a parent, nothing is more important than the life and well-being of their child. What happens to us isn't important. You were going off to war and we wanted to help you in any way, even if that meant going into hiding to protect you and your friends. But to not even allow us to think about you and worry, to pray for you even, it was just _cruel_."

Elizabeth paused and took a deep breath to steady her voice again before taking Hermione's hands. "But as hurt and angry as your father and I are, it doesn't even come close to how relieved and happy we are that you're okay and your war is over."

Hermione looked up through watery eyes in confusion. "Wha - I don't understand."

"No, I suppose you don't," John said as he put an arm around her shoulders, "and you probably won't until you have a kid of your own. People make mistakes, Mouse. The anger will dissipate, but love - that's constant, that's something you can always count on from us."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times before giving up and leaning into her dad. "I'm sorry," she whispered when she found her voice again.

"We know, dear. You did it because you thought it was the right thing to do to protect us. That's what we taught you to do, but please, next time just let your father buy a gun and let us protect ourselves," Elizabeth said frankly.

"Have either of you ever even _held_ a gun before?" Hermione asked, looking up in surprise.

"We have a few patients who enjoy firearms a bit too much for their own good who have taken us onto their property to teach us _city-folk_ how to handle a gun - after we taught them a few things about dental hygiene of course," John said with a smile. "I've developed a bit of a soft spot for Mr. Finley's .308 Winchester personally. Your mum on the other hand seems to favor smaller guns, not that it matters since she has better aim than nearly everyone we've shot with. She has some of the steadiest hands in the country."

"Oh don't look so surprised," Elizabeth said in response to her daughter's gaping mouth. "You know, I had this nagging feeling that I needed to be extra careful and protect myself, but I couldn't think of a reason why. And that's not the only one I had. On your birthday I made your favorite cake but I couldn't understand why I picked one your father's and my busiest weeks at work to spend two hours in the kitchen making dessert just for the two of us."

"It was good though," John said with a grin.

"That's not the point," she said to John before turning to Hermione. "But enough about us. I want to hear more about you and Ronald. I think I've been more than patient."

Hermione stared at her mother for a moment. "I get what you're doing, Mum. We talk about something unpleasant like my night at Malfoy Manor and then you ask me about my relationship with Ron, hoping that I'll be more than willing to talk about anything else as long as it's more pleasant than the previous conversation."

Elizabeth smiled with a sigh. "And here I thought you took more after your father when it came to reading people. But you have to admit I have been patient - _and_ I'd like to know how you got those scrapes on your arm since you didn't attribute them to that last battle."

Hermione shift uncomfortably; she had forgotten about her run-in with the Sydney Ministry. "Okay, okay. Ron and I are . . . we're kind of together. It's complicated what with everything that's happened and me leaving. . . . We didn't part on the best of terms, but we're working through it via the post I got from him this morning."

"That's good. He values his relationship with you enough to talk about it across continents," John said.

"I suppose you saying _it's complicated_ is code for _I don't want to talk about it_," Elizabeth guessed.

Hermione just smiled.

"Fine then, your arm?"

Grimacing slightly, Hermione retrieved yesterday's paper from the coffee table and opened to the third page before laying it in front of her parents.

"The shooting near the airport in Sydney, what about it? It was drug related and . . ." her father trailed off. "Are you saying you were involved in this?!"

Biting her lip, Hermione forced herself to speak. "I was eating lunch at the diner when the fight broke out," she said softly.

Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief. "You just survived a war only to get shot at half way around the world?"

Hermione rolled her shoulders and re-told her adventure the same way she had told the auror. An hour and several questions later found the Grangers walking around town introducing Hermione as Monica's and Wendell's god-daughter, Mia.

"Well he _certainly_ was pleasant," Hermione said sarcastically.

"Don't mind Rudy," John said. "He still thinks we over charged him for his root canal last month."

"I'm sure he didn't enjoy the root canal itself much either," Hermione countered.

"Oh I _know_ he didn't," Elizabeth said with a smile. "He had his wife call our office the next day to complain about the pain he was in. He wouldn't have been in any pain at all if he hadn't flinched every time I put a different tool in his mouth and complained about how long it was taking every five minutes."

"He's your mum's favorite patient," John said with a grin.

"I can tell," Hermione said. They continued walking around the town, talking about nothing in particular, but avoiding anything of any meaning. Hermione was okay with that, she wasn't really listening to the conversation, only nodding and agreeing when necessary. Her focus was on not what her parents were saying, but on how they interacted with each other.

As she had progressed through Hogwarts, and attacks on the school became common place, Hermione had noticed a disheartening change in her parents. Though none of the changes were extraordinary, they were numerous; it was just a lot of little things. It had been years, for instance, since they'd told her stories of memorable patients, the last time being the summer before fifth year.

The most noticeable was the increasing amount of fights, usually involving her and whether or not she would be allowed to return to Hogwarts. Her dad would argue Hermione was capable of making the decision herself, while her mum continually suggested enrolling her in secondary school and ignore the existence of the magically world all together. Things had been tense between Hermione and her mum for that reason . . . and between her mum and dad.

So when Hermione came home nearly a year ago and explained the state of the wizarding world and her plans to skip her last year of school in favor of joining a rebellion that would likely end her life, she wasn't at all surprised when the fighting came to a head. Both her parents were furious with her, her father because he felt betrayed by her lack of what he called _judgment_ and her mother because she had ignored her doubts and allowed Hermione to continue at Hogwarts.

In the end Hermione was able to reason with them and help them accept her decision and accept her plan to move to Australia and assume new identities. Though she hadn't told them, altering their memories had always been part of the plan; a couple constantly arguing and calling each other by the wrong names would be as noticeable to locals as leprechaun gold to a goblin. A well adjusted, carefree pair on the other hand would hardly cause a stir.

Sure it was wrong on a moral level as her mum had pointed out, but Hermione stood by her decision and accepted the guilt that came with it. Her parents were safe and happier than she'd seen them in years, that was all she needed know to be sure she'd made the right choice. She'd rather feel guilt about that than guilt for losing them to Death Eaters because she'd put them in harm's way.

"- Mouse?"

Hermione looked up at her dad. "Sorry, I guess I was off in my own little world there for a while."

"Your, um-" he did a quick look around to make sure they weren't over heard, "Your mum and I were wondering if you wanted to come to the office with us tomorrow and help Alana update the filing system."

"I suppose I don't have anything else to do tomorrow," Hermione said.

"Don't sound so enthusiastic about it, dear," Elizabeth said with a smile. "The time will go by quickly and Alana is about as friendly as they come."

Hermione grimaced, "I should probably come up with a story to explain why I'm here and what I've been doing the past twelve months then shouldn't I?"

"Probably, but don't worry too much," John said, "she likes to talk, so just ask her about the town or her favorite type of music and you'll be fine."

With a forced smile, Hermione said, "I guess I can manage that. I think I still might remember how to act like a muggle."

***

_A/N: So that's it for now. That's the last chapter I felt I **needed** to write before the dysfunctional couple meet . . ._

_Thanks for reading and reviewing if you do!_


	11. Travels and Threats

_A/N: "Long time, no see" as my doc said to me a couple of days ago when I came in with the flu (he saw me for a chemical burn two weeks before). Wow, it's been almost two months since I updated . . . I'm really, really, really sorry. Juggling school, work, and a life (or lack there of) is a bit tougher than I thought it'd be this semester. Thanks for sticking with the story!_

_As stated above I am recovering from the flu so if you read something that doesn't make sense please let me know; I've been having a hard time stringing words together in a coherent fashion lately. Enjoy!_

***

"Ron, we need more _Nosebleed Nougat_! Get a move on!" George called from behind the counter. Ron gave an irritated groan and headed to the backroom. It had been nearly a week since the shop re-opened and business was booming.

"Where the hell did that box go?" Ron mumbled to himself as he began his search. He was nine and a half hours through his eleven hour shift and thoroughly exhausted. He was put in charge of keeping the selves stocked and helping customers, simple enough. What he hadn't anticipated was just how quickly the stock was moving; he'd lost count of how many trips to the backroom he'd made hours ago.

Thinking nearly exclusively about the dinner at home waiting for him, he almost walked right by his target. As he walked towards the door with his load, he glanced at a small stack of boxes near the door labeled _Patented Daydreams _and smiled.

"There you go, mate," Ron said as he squeezed through the crowd to a third year Gryffindor waiting rather impatiently. The boy muttered a hurried thanks as he grabbed two _Snackboxes_ and headed towards George to pay.

"You look awfully happy for someone who's been here all day." Ron turned and saw Angelina eying him suspiciously.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he stated nonchalantly.

Angelina rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Just five minutes ago you looked like you wanted to hex someone, now you're grinning like an idiot."

"Gee - thanks, Ang," he replied sarcastically.

"I'm not saying it's a _bad_ thing. I was just hoping you'd let me in on your secret. Let me guess, you have a bottle of Oden's hidden back there, don't you? Come on, Ron! I've been here just as long you and could really use a pick-me-up."

Ron tried to stop snickering. "Sorry, Ang. There's no Oden's, just boxes back there."

Angelina glared at him for a moment before shaking her head and smiling. "It wouldn't have anything to do with those boxes of _Daydreams_ you left right by the door the other day, does it?"

Ron felt his face heat up. "I - um, no."

"You Weasley men are such softies," Angelina said with a grin, "or did you put them there for a different reason?"

Ron knew Angelina was referring to the empty _Daydream_ box and thong he and George had found almost two weeks ago in front of the shop. "I haven't knocked over any displays today, have I?" he said defensively.

"No, but you probably will now."

"No thanks to you."

Angelina smiled and waved before showing a customer to the _WonderWitch_ display. Rolling his eyes, Ron began stocking the display shelves. Angelina had been working at the shop since the day after it opened and Verity and Lee were also on the payroll.

Ron had been thinking about Hermione a lot lately, something that hadn't been missed by George or Angelina. . . . That was also something he'd been wondering about as well; it seemed like everything he said to George made its way to Angelina somehow, but not necessarily to Lee or Verity, and they nearly always went out for drinks or dinner together every night after work. Ron didn't ask and they didn't tell. If they wanted to keep their weird almost-relationship to themselves, Ron was just fine with that.

Hermione's first letter came a week ago accompanied by a ministry owl from Percy five minutes later. Though it was nice to know that Percy had kept his word, his owl was a bit redundant after reading Hermione's letter.

As it turned out, she was in a little town called Tennant Creek, north of Alice Springs, living with her parents. Her letter was short and to the point: "You were right, I was wrong. I'm sorry." (Well, it was longer than that, but not by much.) She and her parents were doing well, but she didn't know when she'd be back.

Ron walked back to the backroom. After reading her letter Ron was a bit perplexed. She hadn't mentioned the shooting in Sydney, but she seemed to be doing fine now that she'd found her parents. He still wanted to demand a portkey to see for himself that she was okay, but that seemed like overkill now.

Two letters from her and three to her later, Ron was beginning to regret not immediately seeing her. He missed her like mad and was beginning to worry again about her. Hermione's letters were exceedingly apologetic and always had a bit of a melancholic tone. If the next one followed suit, Ron vowed to get Harry's and Ginny's opinion and request a portkey if necessary.

"Ron, glad I found you," George said as Ron was sorting through boxes. "Angie and I are leaving a bit early tonight, you're in charge of closing up."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Fine."

"Don't sound so thrilled about it, mate. When you have a social life again, you can leave early . . . maybe twice a year if you're good."

"Just go, it's fine. I can handle it." Ron manned the counter and waved them out five minutes later. With only half an hour before Ron could close the shop, business was slowing down to a crawl. He let his mind wander back to Hermione and the infamous thong. . . .

***

_Merlin, it's dry out here_, Hermione thought as wiped the sweat from her face. She straightened up from tying her shoe and looked around. Besides the low growing shrubs scattering the area, the _outback _as Hermione thought of it was barren and lonely. _And going for this jog was supposed to help me how?_

Hermione turned around, towards the town, and began to jog back as she thought about her morning. Since her arrival to Tennant Creek, Hermione had been consumed by a feeling of sadness and guilt. _Well that's understandable, I just attended over a dozen funerals and survived a war._ But she knew there was more to her problem than that. She had expected her guilt to dissipate after returning her parents' memories, but it didn't; she'd expected the sadness to diminish after leaving her war-torn world in England, but it hadn't.

_Is it so wrong that I don't want to deal with the grief and the pain anymore? Am I a horrible person for wanting to escape from my life for a while and pretend to be someone else? Does that make me a coward? _Hermione lengthened her stride and felt the muscles in her legs and her lungs begin to burn in earnest. _I sacrificed a year of my life, hell most of my childhood too, to fight this war; don't I deserve a moment's rest, a few days without feeling the misery and wretchedness caused by it?_

She wiped impatiently at sweat threatening her eyes and increased her speed. No longer did she take in her surroundings and enjoy the warmth of the morning sun, all she could see was the approaching town and all she could feel was the quick staccato of her own heart. Her epiphany hit her with enough force to destroy her stride and bring her quickly to a halt.

_It doesn't matter what I'm entitled to, _Hermione thought as she doubled over in pain. _What matters is that I can't just walk away; I can't just pretend to be someone I'm not. I'm not the type of person to abandon the people I care about; I just don't possess that ability. _Hermione straightened up and wiped the tears and sweat from her face with the bottom of her shirt and began to walk towards her parents' house. _I need to go home,_ she thought not thinking about her current destination.

***

"She's coming in two days?!" Ginny nearly yelled. "It's about time! She's been gone for three weeks."

Ron grinned. Though he agreed whole-heartedly with his sister, he felt more than a bit nervous.

"She Apparatating or taking a portkey?" Harry asked.

"She's using the International Apparatation Network. She said she didn't want to spend anymore time at the Australian Ministry than she has to."

"I'll be good to have her back. You two are getting a bit boring," Ginny teased.

"Boring? How can I be boring? I'm never here anymore," Ron complained.

"Which is why you are boring," Ginny stated.

"And why am I boring?" Harry asked.

"Because I'm getting tired of beating you at chess all of the time."

Ron chuckled and laid back on the grass and stared at the sky. The three of them were sitting around the pond enjoying the first sunny day in nearly two weeks. "So -uh, things between you and Hermione are better now right, mate? No more of this awkward silence and non-rowing stuff?"

Ron looked over at Harry. "Like you even noticed, Harry. Ginny told me you didn't notice anything until she told you."

"That's not true! I noticed the lack of rowing - Ginny just pointed out the awkward silence bit."

"Thanks, Ginny."

"You're welcome," Ginny said simply. "Well?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "We're on speaking terms."

"That's it?!"

"I'm not sure, Ginny, okay? Writing letters is a bit different than actually having a conversation with someone!"

"What would make you think things between you two weren't good?" Harry asked.

"It's complicated."

"Yeah? How so, mate?"

Ron sat up and glared at Harry. "It's - I don't really want to get into it at the moment."

Harry shook his head. "All I'm trying to say is that you two fight _all_ of the time and usually work things out pretty quickly. Things might not be as bad as they seem."

"Yeah . . . I'm going to get something to eat. I'll see you guys later," Ron said as he stood.

"Ron, don't tell her I said this, but she's been pinning over you for three years - that _I've_ noticed anyway. She's not just going to kick you to the curb the moment she finally has you. It'll work out, you'll see," Ginny said sincerely.

Ron just nodded and turned away. He knew he was probably overreacting, but he still wondered about what was going on in Hermione's mind sometimes . . . like now for instance. Her last two letters were more upbeat and less apologetic, but still lacked her normally cheerful, colorful tone.

_I wonder if that book has any advice for this sort of situation_, Ron wondered about _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches._

***

"Are you sure you have everything?" John asked his daughter.

Hermione nodded. She'd been packed and ready to go since that morning - it was now late into the evening. She had spent the last three days with her parents visiting the local national parks and trying to squeeze in as much time with her parents as possible before she left for the Burrow. "I think I have everything, if I don't it'll just give me another excuse to come back to visit."

"Well in that case, I hope you did forget something."

"John, for goodness-sake," Elizabeth exclaimed. "Hopefully we can get everything here settled in just a few months and join you back home so the trip won't be so long."

"But feel free to visit before then," John said with a hopeful smile.

"I will, I promise," Hermione said with a chuckle.

"And write or call. No more of this going months without hearing from you," her mother said with a hint of seriousness.

"Of course, as long as you don't mind post by owl or whatever that little bird was that I was getting my post from Ron."

"I think that will be just fine, dear," she said as she pulled her daughter in to a tight hug. "If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask or come to visit."

Hermione pulled back and nodded seeing unshed tears in her mum's eyes while fighting her own. "I will," she said in a wavering voice before being pulled back into the embrace.

"I love you, Hermione," Elizabeth said in a thick voice.

"I love you, too, Mum." Her father's good bye was just as emotional and sentimental. Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes, waved, and Apparated.

Hermione appeared in the Atrium of the Sydney Ministry a moment later with a shudder that had nothing to do with the temperature difference. It was a quick walk to the IAN check-in which was thankfully far from the interrogation room she was taken to on her last visit. She took a seat next to a man reading a newspaper and waited for her number to be called.

"How are you, Dingo?"

Hermione tensed and looked over at the man reading the paper. "Very well, Auror Andrews. How are you?"

"Not bad. What brings you back to Sydney?"

Hermione took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "I'm going home and it seems the Sydney Ministry is the only one hooked up to the IAN."

"That it is. You staying out of trouble?"

"If by trouble you mean performing basic first aid on wounded muggles, then yes, I've stayed out of trouble."

"That was more than _basic_ first aid. The healers only needed to give her a blood replenishing potion and alter her and her daughter's memories. I was referring to the resisting arrest bit," he said still staring at the paper.

"I've kept my nose clean and stayed away from the media like Minister Rudman asked," Hermione said trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "Why are you here?"

"Besides _working_ here, I'm being sent to your ministry to aid in a few manhunts and protect the fine people of the motherland."

"Lovely." Hermione picked up a magazine and began to flip through it.

"How's your shoulder?"

Hermione looked up in surprise, but Andrews was still staring at his paper. "Fine, healed up a while ago."

"That's good to hear." They sat in silence until Andrews' number was called. He folded his paper and stood. "It's good to see you again Miss Granger. Have a pleasant trip," he said holding his hand out to Hermione.

Hermione shook it with a bit of confusion, but replied, "Same to you, Auror Andrews." She wasn't given much time to contemplate the odd exchange with the auror; her number was called shortly afterwards.

Though she had memorized the pamphlet on using the IAN that the ministry sent her two days ago, it did little to actually prepare her for her first time using it.

"Here you go Ma'am, this way," a man said as he led her to a chair after Hermione arrived at the British Ministry. She felt terribly lightheaded and a bit nauseous. "The first time's always the hardest."

Hermione nodded absently trying to remember how to breathe.

"Just sit tight here for a bit. Bridget here will get you a cup o' water and you'll be good as new in no time."

Hermione was aware of the man leaving and a woman coming to her with a cold paper cup of water. The water did help and soon Hermione because aware of her surroundings. She was in another waiting room, though this one seemed to be for recovery from the IAN.

Feeling well enough to leave, Hermione mouthed a _thank you_ from across the room to the woman for the water and set off towards the Atrium. Upon reaching the ministry entrance, Hermione felt the nausea hit again.

The Atrium was crowded with reporters. It looked like someone was about to give a speech judging by the podium set up in front of the crowd.

Hermione looked down at her attire with despair; she was dressed as a muggle in a room full of robed witches and wizards. There was no way she wouldn't be recognized.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione set off towards the Apparation point in a brisk walk. Sure enough, half way there she heard the hurried click of heels on tile. "Miss Granger, Miss Granger! A moment of your time? Are you here to see the Minister's address today?"

Hermione sped up and ignored the slue of questions called to her from the half dozen reporters tailing after her. She looked back in time to see two men trying to box her in before she could get to the Apparation point. Hermione ran for it and ignored the protests of the reporters. Looking back with a victorious smile, she Apparated.

***

Ron woke with a smile on his face. Hermione was coming to the Burrow that morning - she was coming home, as Ron liked to think. Ron was in such a good mood that George's snide comments about him taking extra time to shave thoroughly and Harry's snickering at his abnormally tidy appearance when he and George arrived at the Burrow for breakfast didn't affect him at all. But his sister's comments . . .

"Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" she asked in a pseudo-concerned voice.

"No idea what you're talking about, Gin."

Ginny snickered, "Merlin, Ron, Hermione isn't going to be able to recognize you!"

Ron shifted uncomfortably. "Of course she will! She's only been gone for three weeks and I've only tucked in my shirt so stop being dramatic."

"And gotten a haircut and put on the nicest muggle outfit you own and put on a bit too much cologne in my opinion and -"

"Okay, okay! I get your point!" Ron groaned. "Do you think I have enough time to run back to the apartment and change?"

"Not if you want to finish your breakfast," Ginny smiled.

"Leave your brother alone, Ginny," Molly chided her daughter. "You look very nice, Ron. I'm sure Hermione will be very flattered."

"If she doesn't die of shock first," Harry mumbled under his breath.

"You're a great help, Potter."

"Alright! Ron, go try to rid yourself of some of that cologne. Harry, you go get Ron a pair of jeans from his closet - I think he left some old clothes here," Ginny ordered.

"Hey! Don't I get to help?" George asked in outrage.

"No, you don't," Molly answered before Ginny. Ginny grinned at George before following the boys up the stairs.

"I can't do this," Ginny heard Ron say as she neared the loo.

"Yes, you can. You just need to relax." Ginny cast a cleaning charm on his dress shirt to rid it of cologne. "It's not that you don't look nice, Ron, you just look _too_ nice which might freak Hermione out a bit."

"Okay, so what do I do?" he asked nervously.

"Un-tuck the shirt. I can't think of more than half a dozen times I've seen you with your shirt this neat."

"Here you go, mate," Harry said handing Ron his trousers. "How's it coming, Gin?"

"We're getting there. Hurry up and change, Ron, I'm not done with you."

"He hasn't vomited yet, that's a good sign right?" Harry asked Ginny after Ron closed the door to the loo.

"I heard that!" Ron yelled through the door.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "That looks better," Ginny said when Ron reappeared. "He still looks a bit too formal doesn't he, Harry?"

Harry cocked an eyebrow, "You're asking me? I excel at cheating death not fashion. You're on your own on this one."

"Thanks, Harry," Ginny replied sarcastically. "Unbutton your sleeves and roll them up a bit. . . . There! I think he's ready."

Ron looked at himself in the mirror and gave a nervous smile. He didn't look like a poof and he _was_ more comfortable even though his pants were a bit on the tight side. "Thanks, Gin."

"You owe me, or Hermione owes me - one of you owes me," Ginny said as she led them back downstairs.

"She's not here yet, is she?" Ron asked Molly the moment they arrived in the kitchen.

"No, dear. Why don't you all go to the sitting room and wait there so I can start dinner?"

"Dinner? She has a bloody feast planned," George said with a grin as he pulled out a deck cards. "I hope Mrs. Tonks is up for the challenge."

"I almost forgot she was coming over, too. I hope Teddy has recovered from the prank you played on him last time he was over," Harry said to George with narrowed eyes.

"Hey, I just wanted to know if all small children are as wimpy as Ron is. The spider wasn't even that big -"

"It was the size of his fist!"

"And his fists are tiny, mate! I don't know what your problem is - He didn't even cry, he just stared at it -"

"And he didn't stop staring at it until you got rid of it! He had that weird, vacant look on his face for the rest of the night-"

"Oh, come off it, Harry. He always looks like that."

"She's here," Ron said quietly.

Harry's anger melted as he ran to the window beside Ron. "George, if I see one spider tonight I'll make your head symmetrical and take care of that other ear for you," he said with a wide smile before following Ginny out the door.

_A/N: I'm so, so, so sorry for ending the chapter here, but it was getting ridiculously long. The next chapter is nearly done so I promise you won't have to wait too long. Thanks for reading and let me know what you think._

_And thanks to GrintsGal for unofficially beta-ing this chapter (Wow, I must have been sicker than I thought :D)_


	12. Snogging and Sleepy Confessions

_A/N: Howdy y'all. I'm feeling a bit silly at the moment. I wrote this on my profile at fanfic today:_

_7 Dec 09: I'm a horrible lair I know, I know. The newest chapter will be up soon (like in-less-than-two-weeks soon) and just needs a few more bits worked out, but I swear I haven't forgotten about you all. Unfortunately for me it is "finals week" for the next three weeks (yeah, I don't know how they worked that one out either); fortunately for you all that means I'm going to get bored of studying and will procrastinate by writing. Today was a good example of that. I'm hoping to get the next chapter up before my b-day at the end of the month so we'll see how it goes; have a happy holiday season if I don't get back here anytime soon. :)_

_Seven hours later: So I'm a really horrible lair. I finished the chapter instead of working on my presentation for my micro lab – Enjoy!_

_***_

Hermione shuddered and inhaled sharply. She was still a bit woozy from the IAN and the Ottery St. Catchpole air felt frigid and damp compared to the Ministry's circulating dry air. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, Hermione set off towards the asymmetric building she knew so well with a nervous smile.

Though she missed all of the residents of the Burrow, her thoughts revolved solely around Ron. She wondered if he was as nervous as she was about their meeting. Was the nervousness necessary? Hopefully not, but she would soon find out.

"HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER!" Hermione heard as she latched the gate behind her. She turned and was nearly rugby tackled by the youngest red-head. "It's about bloody time you got here!" Ginny nearly shouted into her ear.

"I missed you, too, Gin," Hermione said through her laughter as she returned Ginny's hug.

"Oye - Stop hogging my sister!" she heard Harry say in a whiny voice.

"She's just as much my sister as she is yours, so no, I think I will continue to _hog her_."

"Fine then," Harry said before wrapping his arms around both of them and squeezing them tightly.

"Okay, you can have her!" Ginny choked out before wriggling out of Harry's and Hermione's grasps.

Hermione continued to laugh as she threw she arms around Harry. "Merlin, I was only gone three weeks!"

"It felt like a lot longer than that," Harry said seriously as he pulled her closer.

_Don't cry, don't cry. I haven't even seen Ron yet, I have to keep it together at least that long . . . _Hermione thought.

"Come on, Potter. I think we all know who she's _really _been waiting to see," George said with a smirk.

Harry loosened his hold on Hermione, "Is that so?"

Hermione tried to look serious with her watery eyes. "I'm afraid so, Harry."

"Fine, be that way! I'll just go and leave you two alone then," Harry said with a smirk and an eye-roll.

George captured her in his arms and place a very loud, very wet kiss on her check. "Thank Merlin you're back," he said theatrically. "Ronnie has been driving me _insane_ since you left. Do me a favor and snog the poor bloke senseless, will ya?"

Hermione felt her face redden as she wiped George's saliva from her face. "I-I'll see what I can do." And with that, George moved aside and pushed her forward.

"I warmed her up for you, mate!" she heard him call to Ron.

Looking back, Hermione was never able to be quite sure how she ended up in Ron's arms that morning. All she knew was one moment she was staring transfixed by his sudden appearance, hands in his pockets and smiling that crooked smile, and the next she was modeled tightly against his chest basking in his familiar scent.

"I agree with Ginny, it's about time you got here," he said quietly into her frizzy hair.

"Ginny is a very smart girl," Hermione mumbled into his shirt. As she stood there in Ron's arms, Hermione had a realization - Home had nothing to do with a structure or a set place; it was right where she was standing, in the embrace of the man she loved. "It's good to be home," she said before finally letting the tears fall.

"I couldn't agree more." Ron threaded his fingers through her hair and smiled. He couldn't find words to describe how happy he was. He felt her pull back and watched her wipe the tears from her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Ron! You were right all along. I shouldn't have gone alone, I should've-" Ron cut her off with a gentle finger to her lips.

"Tell me you did _not _come all this way just to apologize again for _that_." Ron said with a smirk.

Hermione's face darkened a shade as she glared at him. "You deserve a proper apology, Ron!"

"I thought that's what I got in _every_ letter you wrote me."

"That doesn't count! - Well, it does, but that's not the point!" Hermione struggled to say. "You deserve to hear it in person!"

"Well I just heard it-"

"That doesn't count because you interrupted me! I wasn't finished-"

"Okay then, finish."

"Thank you! What I was trying to say is that I'm-" was all the further Hermione got before Ron pressed his lips to hers. Hermione tried to resist at first, but quickly realized that some things were just better said without words.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that last bit," Ron said as they pulled apart.

"Prat," Hermione mumbled into his neck.

"And you wouldn't have me any other way."

Hermione pulled back and stared up into his face. "You're absolutely right," she said before pulling him into another kiss. It surprised her how easy it was to simply kiss him, how effortless it was to convey everything she wanted to say to him in such a simple gesture - and how incredibly enjoyable it was.

"Ron," she panted breaking the kiss. She could feel one of his hands hovering dangerously low on her hip.

Ron ignored her for a bit and resumed snogging her. "Yeah?" he eventually said in a low voice.

It took Hermione a moment to remember why she had interrupted them in the first place. "We're snogging in your front yard."

Ron claimed her lips again. "I'm aware of that."

Hermione turned her head away, which didn't stop Ron as trailed his lips across her face and down her neck. She let out a small whimper and nearly gave up on her mission. "Ron - _Ah! _- Ron, your - your-"

"_You're an amazing kisser? _Or _you're too bloody sexy for your own good?_" Ron whispered into her ear with a grin.

"I-I'm not denying either of those -" she was cut-off again by Ron's lips. "But," she said taking Ron's approach and letting her lips explore his neck, "there's almost no doubt in my mind that we're being watched - probably by at least your brother."

Ron stiffened slightly, but pulled her face back up to his. "Then let him watch."

Hermione almost agreed with him. "-think the pond is a bit more secluded, if I remember right," she panted as she pulled away.

Ron frowned for a moment, but quickly smiled. "Feeling a need to be _selfish_, are you?"

"Maybe," she said with an innocent smile before pulling away and taking his hand. They walked in silence along the well-worn path behind the Burrow. Still basking in the residual warmth of Ron's embrace, Hermione enjoyed the cool morning air and the glittering grass still speckled with dew.

"How was your trip back?" Ron asked interrupting the silence.

"Not bad, except for the actual traveling part. I don't think I'll ever get used to the IAN," Hermione said after a moment.

"Yeah, Charlie always tries to get a portkey whenever he comes to visit. Did you make out of the Ministry alright? Kingsley is supposed to be giving a speech about a couple of Death Eater related kidnappings this morning."

"That would have been good to know. I was nearly captured by a pack of ravenous reporters leaving. I take it you and Harry haven't given them anything yet?"

Ron shook his head. "We figured you'd be better at that sort of thing. We should probably give them an official statement or something soon so the blokes camped-out on the other side of the pond can go home."

"It's been over a month! - I guess you're right though. Should I owl Rita?" Hermione said with a grin.

"You do whatever you want, just don't expect me to say anything to her," Ron said with a scowl.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Ron led them past the group of trees they'd snogged against that fateful evening to the small dock jutting into the Weasley pond. Together they sat on the end and watched the ripples caused by the water bugs.

"You're not going to let me apologize, are you?" Hermione asked in an amused voice.

Ron shook his head. "But you can try," he said in a hopeful voice. He watched Hermione laugh and knew now was as good of a time as any to try to talk to her about that night two months ago.

"You were right you know," Ron said quietly after a moment.

Hermione looked over at Ron, confused. "Sorry?"

"About me needing to talk to someone about Fred. I was a bloody wreck. I wasn't sleeping, I wanted to hex anyone with a grin on their face . . . but after I talked to George it was like a fog cleared. It felt good to just let it all out, you know?"

Hermione nodded with a smile.

"And it made me realize," Ron continued hesitantly, "that it's sometimes easier to talk to those who are closer to the pain than you are in a way. You don't have to explain what you're feeling as much because they feel it too."

"All that matters is that you found someone you could talk to," Hermione said softly.

Ron nodded and gulped; he hoped Mrs. Tonk's theory worked. "But there is something else I've been meaning to talk about that I can't talk about with anyone else, but you."

Hermione stared at Ron with concern for a moment. "What is it, Ron?"

"I've been having these nightmares almost every night," Ron said truthfully, "for the past two months. The only time I don't have them is when I'm with you it seems like."

"What are your dreams about?" she said taking his hand in hers.

Ron tried to stop shaking; he knew that he wanted to talk about that night about much as she probably did, but he knew if he didn't do it now he might not be able to work up the nerve again any time soon. "It varies, but usually I'm in a dark room and then I hear a scream for help and I try to find where it's coming from. Sometimes I find it, others I just search and search and listen to the screams," Ron said in a whisper.

Hermione was silent and unmoving as she listened; her fingers were tightly wrapped around Ron's.

"But the times when I find the - the person in trouble are worse. I find them and I can't do any thing to help - it's like I've been immobilized. So instead of just listening, I'm watching too and it's terrible 'cause I know there's nothing I can do help y-them."

Hermione nodded and tried to think of something comforting to say while ignoring her own discomfort. "That sounds horrible, Ron. It sounds like you're blaming yourself for what happened to this person."

Ron ran his free hand through his hair. "I always feel like there was something I should have been able to do to prevent any of it from happening, that if I tried harder the person wouldn't have-"

"But there wasn't! You did everything you could. Nothing could have stopped that from happening," Hermione said in a pleading voice.

"If I'd have just fought harder for her to take me-" Ron tried to argue.

"Then Bellatrix would have killed you! . . . and that would have killed me," Hermione said giving up on the third person bit. "Don't you understand? You're the only reason I survived that night-"

"Dobby saved you, not me," Ron said quietly.

Hermione raised their intertwined hands to her lips. "Dobby saved all of us that night," she said waiting for him to look at her before continuing. "But it wasn't Dobby yelling my name over and over keeping me sane, reminding me that I had to keep holding on just a bit longer. It wasn't Dobby who pulled me from the wreckage," Hermione paused to try to control her emotions, "and it wasn't Dobby who Apparated me out of there. You did and if it wasn't for you I wouldn't be here," she finished with a sob.

Ron pulled her into his arms and let her cry. Ron felt quite choked up as well; he'd had no idea how much he'd helped her that night.

Hermione pulled herself together quickly and pulled away. "You have to understand that none of that was your fault, Ron. I know it must have been difficult to know what was happening to me and not to be able to stop it, but you have to realize that you helped me so much that night."

"I think I do now," he said wiping a tear from her face. "All I could think of was how I left and wasn't there when you needed me at Godric's Hollow. It was like reliving all of that guilt in an instant."

"I think you've more than made up for it since then though," she said softly.

"I guess I was pretty heroic disarming that psychotic woman," Ron said trying to lighten the mood.

"I assume you were," she said with a watery smile.

"I know I've said this before, but if you ever need to talk about any of this stuff, I'm here for you."

Hermione stared up into his blue eyes and felt a bit of the trust she'd been missing for so long. "Okay."

"Well," said Ron nervously, "now that we have that out of the way . . . I suppose you must be tired with the time difference. Should we head inside?"

"A strong coffee does sound lovely," Hermione admitted.

"It's settled then," said Ron as he tried to stand only to have Hermione pull him back down.

"Before we go in, I have a bit of a confession to make," Hermione said seriously.

"Yeah?"

"We've been apart for a while, Ron," Hermione said with a bit of blush, "and I have to admit that I'm in desperate need of a thorough snog."

"You are, are you?" Ron said with more confidence.

"It's quite ridiculous how much I need it." Hermione smiled as Ron moved closer.

"And just what do you want me to do about it?" Ron said cupping the side of her face.

Hermione fought to remember how to speak. "I'd like to take you up on your offer," Hermione closed her eyes and could feel Ron's breath on her lips, "the one about helping me be . . . more . . . selfish -"

_This is way better than coffee_, Hermione thought as her senses became overwhelmed by Ron. . . .

***

"They've been out there an awfully long time, haven't they?" Molly asked Andromeda.

"I imagine they have a bit of catching up to do, Molly," she said with a smile, "and probably a bit of snogging-"

"I should send George to go get them." Molly began walking towards the sitting room.

"Molly! Slow down!" Andromeda laughed. "They haven't seen each other in nearly a month. Let them have a few more moments to themselves."

Molly sighed and tended to the pots of boiling liquid on the stovetop.

"You've been _awfully_ touchy lately about Ron's and Hermione's relationship," Andromeda said as she continued to knead the bread dough in front of her. "Did you catch them in a compromising position before Hermione left?"

"No, not really," said Molly after a moment's hesitation. "It's just that I've watched those two dance around each other for so long that I'm just worried that they might be rushing things a bit now that they've finally noticed each other."

"Well, they are adults - far older than anyone their age should be, mind you. And so what if they do? They've known each other for years," Andromeda tried to reason. "Isn't _rushing things_ part of being a teenager?"

"That would be fine if that was all they had to worry about," Molly said with a frown. "But there's no point in pretending that they're just _teenagers_. My youngest son has seen nearly as many deaths in his short life as I have for goodness sake and Merlin knows what else!" She paused for a moment. "I just don't want them jumping into something that they're not ready for yet. They may feel like adults, but like you said they're still just teenagers."

"Ignoring that they _are_ legally adults," Andromeda said off hand, "I'm not sure you have much of a choice in the matter. You're just going to have to trust that you raised Ron well and that he and Hermione are as close as everyone's been telling me they are."

Though Molly looked far from convinced, Andromeda was saved from having to stall her any longer by the couple in question's entry into the kitchen. "Hermione, dear! It's so good to see you," Molly said as she embraced the younger woman.

Andromeda watched in bitter-sweet amusement. Molly seemed so worried about her son's relationship with Hermione and yet Molly was effortlessly greeting her with overflowing warmth. It reminded Andromeda of her own greetings to Remus. She pushed the wave of memories of her lost family out of mind, for the moment at least.

"It looks like you spent the last three weeks entirely in the sun," Molly commented as she held Hermione at arm's length. "But you're just like Ginny and the boys, still just as underfed-looking as ever. Hopefully we can fix that."

"My mum gave it her best," Hermione laughed. "She wouldn't let me leave a meal without having at least two helpings of everything."

"Well then, who am I to stray from such a logical plan. Oh - Where are my manners? You remember Mrs. Tonks."

Andromeda exchanged warm pleasantries and a handshake while observing Hermione. Though she looked leaps and bounds healthier than last time they'd met, Andromeda could just discern the dark rings around the young woman's eyes nearly hidden by a thin layer of make-up. "Teddy is with Harry and Ginny in the other room - I'd head in there before Molly has you rolling out bread dough," she said in a stage whisper.

"Oh hush - I'm sure Harry could use a bit of help keeping George in-line around Teddy."

"Because of the spider incident?" Hermione asked with a smile.

"I'm just glad I wasn't there to see it," Ron said with a scowl.

"Yes, though I don't think Teddy cared one way or the other about it," Andromeda laughed. "I suppose it'd be more for Harry's and Ron's sake than Teddy's."

"I see," Hermione said as she and Ron left. Andromeda looked back to Molly, but she seemed much more at ease. Perhaps Molly had been listening . . .

***

"He's adorable," Hermione said looking at Teddy laying on the floor on one of Molly's knitted blankets.

"Why thank you, Hermione," George said with a grin as he dangled a toy above Teddy just out of the infant's reach. "And may I say that you are looking quite lovely yourself today."

"Git," Ron and Ginny said in unison.

"Thank you, George," Hermione said with an eye roll. She knelt down next to George and Teddy. "Teddy is pretty cute, too."

"You say that now. The little tike is getting fussy. Harry, your kid looks hungry."

"So feed him," Harry said from his spot on the sofa next to Ginny.

"Nah, that sounds like a godfather type of job to me."

"What about Hermione?" Ginny asked. "She hasn't had a chance to hold him yet."

The remainder of the morning was spent catching up. The Weasleys and Harry up-dating Hermione on the medical status of their friends the progress of the reconstruction of Hogwarts while Hermione recounted her adventure in Sydney, her reconnection with her parents, and reassuring George that, yes, the toilets did flush in the opposite direction there. Teddy provided further entertainment; Hermione, having never held Teddy or any baby before, required Ron's instruction and help much to the amusement of the general audience.

By lunch Hermione was beginning to appreciate how much the time difference was affecting her and gladly finished Mrs. Weasley's remaining coffee from breakfast. Perhaps it was just the jitteriness from the coffee, but Hermione could have sworn Mrs. Weasley was checking up on them far more than necessary after lunch with Teddy put down for his nap. It made Hermione nervous.

She feared, now that she and Ron were together, that the matriarch was watching her more closely and comparing her and Ron's relationship to Bill and Fleur's. Remembering Mrs. Weasley's disproval of the other couple's public displays of affection, Hermione was afraid to do so much as hold Ron's hand lest Mrs. Weasley make another sudden appearance and begin making assumptions for the worst. Her situation wasn't helped by her persistently growing desire to curl up next to Ron and nod-off while he and George talked about business or Harry and Ginny describe their trips into muggle London. By dinner Hermione was edgy and tense from Mrs. Weasley's frequent visits, the caffeine, and her lack of sleep.

With Bill and Fleur back at Shell Cottage, Charlie in Romania, and Percy at his apartment with rumors of a possible female friend, the Weasley table was noticeably smaller than the last dinner Hermione had shared with them. Tonight however the presence of Mrs. Tonks and Kingsley helped bring the table to a comfortable crowdedness.

"I didn't know you'd be joining us tonight, Kingsley," Hermione said as she and Kingsley exchanged greetings.

"I wasn't sure if I'd be joining you all tonight either," Kingsley said with a warm smile. "The public is in an uproar over these recent kidnappings and is demanding action."

"Do you know who's behind them?"

"No," Kingsley said accepting a butterbeer from Arthur, "and that's what makes this whole mess that much more confusing. No one is claiming responsibility or making demands."

"But I thought they were Death Eater related."

"That's how the _Prophet_ has labeled them, though they're probably right. The few eyewitness accounts of the abductions have described several former Death Eaters or known associates."

"If anything, you'd think they'd want to lay low and not draw attention to themselves," Hermione reasoned. "If they're not after money or making demands then what are they after?"

"Without demands it's hard to know, but we have noticed a pattern. The people being abducted are all considered experts in their fields ranging from dark arts research to experimental potions; two of the four alone are Unspeakables."

"Aurors have been assigned to personally escort most of the top researchers to and from the Ministry. I think they were advised to set up a Fidelius charm on their homes as well, right Kingsley?" Arthur said while arranging more chairs around the table.

Kingsley nodded. "But it may be too little too late. I'm just thankful that Molly has been kind enough to let me stop by for a meal nearly every other day or I'd probably have starved by now," he said flashing Molly a grin.

"Oh, please. You're an excellent cook; I find it very unlikely that you'd starve," Molly said while moving the food to the table.

"But that hardly matters when you're too tired to cook."

"Well then maybe you should just move in," George said carrying an unhappy looking Teddy. "I think the little tike thought it would be awfully unfair for us to eat without him."

"Oh, that's fine," said Mrs. Tonks. "I was just about to wake him." She took Teddy from George and fished out a bottle of milk. "Go on and get started without me."

"Are you sure? I'm sure we could wait," Molly reassured.

"It's fine; I've been sneaking food all afternoon so I think it's only fair."

Mrs. Weasley's dinner was delicious as usual and talk stayed far away from kidnappings and Death Eaters and instead focused on Quidditch and Hermione's trip. Though not used to being the center of attention at a Weasley dinner, Hermione took it in stride. It was difficult, however, for her to keep a straight face when Ron would randomly squeeze her knee or thigh under the table in the middle a story. She had to fake more than one cough to maintain her composure.

Feeling well-feed and very sleepy, Hermione followed everyone into the sitting room. She and Ron sat on the floor next to Teddy and played with him instead of contributing to the group's speculation about Percy's "friend." Too tired to care what Mrs. Weasley would think, Hermione curled up on her side on the floor and rested her head on Ron's lap. Between Ron's fingers in her hair, watching Teddy yawn, and the dim lighting Hermione realized a bit too late that she should have stayed sitting. _I'll just rest my eyes for a minute . . ._

***

"How do we even know this girl is real and not just a figment of Percy's imagination?" George asked with a smirk.

Ron spoke before his mother could. "What about that stuff you said about being a Weasley and having a supernatural ability to attract-"

"I really wasn't thinking about Percy at the time when I said that, Ronnie. Speaking of that, should we ask Hermione if she thinks you have supernatural powers of attraction?"

Ron looked down and waited for her to answer, but Hermione stayed silent. Ron gently rubbed her shoulder and nearly laughed when Teddy mimicked him by clumsily patting Hermione's outstretched hand, but even with their combined effort it was clear; Hermione was fast asleep. "You'll have to ask her in the morning."

Almost as one George, Ginny, Harry, Mrs. Tonks, and Arthur all checked their watches. All but Harry groaned dejectedly, who let out a quiet roar of victory. "You've got to be joking! Just five minutes more and I would have won," George whined as he threw a small bag to Harry.

"Would have won what? What's going on?" Molly asked as Ron watched Harry slip the bag into his pocket.

"Uh . . . Nothing," George said with a grin.

"Tell me you lot weren't taking bets on when Hermione would pass out," Ron asked in annoyance.

"We weren't taking bets on when Hermione would pass out," George, Ginny, and Harry said in unison.

Ron rolled his eyes.

"And you took part in this Arthur?" Molly asked with a glare.

"I can't believe I wasn't let in on this," Kingsley said with a chuckle.

"I wasn't going to until Andromeda joined," Arthur said with a boyish grin.

"Oh, don't you pull me into this. And keep it down - She is sleeping after all."

Ron felt Hermione sigh in her sleep, but didn't wake. "I should take her upstairs before she does wake-up."

"Do you need help, mate?" Harry asked.

"No, I think I can manage," Ron said as he smoothly shifted Hermione into his arms, "but I think you should be the one to tell her about the bet tomorrow since you did win after all."

Harry gave worried laugh. "Yeah, just make sure she doesn't have her wand on her first."

Ron slowly rose to his feet. "I don't know, mate. She has one hell of a right hook. I'd go for the canaries if I were you."

"Forgot about that," Ron heard Harry mumble worriedly as Ron carried Hermione out of the room.

"Ron, are we at Shell Cottage?" Hermione mumbled into Ron's chest as he made his way up the stairs.

"No, why?"

"You're carrying me," she said, wrapping her arms around Ron's neck.

"You fell asleep and I'm taking you to bed."

"Your bed?" she asked hopefully.

Ron laughed quietly. "No, you're sleeping in Ginny's room, remember?"

"But I wanna sleep with you," Hermione whined.

"You're still asleep, Love," Ron said while ignoring his burning ears as he pushed Ginny's door open.

"No I'm not," she said in a childish voice. "I wanna sleep with you."

Ron sat her down on the edge of the cot and looked into her half closed eyes. "Tell you what, if you remember this conversation in the morning we can talk about it then, okay?"

Hermione's brow creased lightly for a moment before nodding. "I won't forget."

"I'm sure you won't," Ron chuckled. "Do you want to lay down now?"

Hermione shook her head and tried to remove her sweater.

"Okay, hold on." He helped her untangle herself from the offending garment and felt his mouth go dry. Three weeks had been a long time and seeing her in that skin-tight tank top made Ron very nervous. Three weeks ago Hermione was little more than skin and bones, but now she had regained the curves Ron had admired from a far for so long. _Calm down, now is not the time to be thinking about that. She needs to sleep and you need to get back down stairs_. "Alright, it's time for you to go to bed young lady."

Hermione swayed where she was sitting, but didn't try to resist.

"Come on, I need you to stand up so I can move the blanket," Ron said as he pulled Hermione to her feet who stumbled slightly and clung to Ron for support as she fell forward. Taking a shaking breath, Ron tried not to focus on how good it felt to have her body press so nicely against his or how warm the bare skin of her back was. Instead he moved the blanket aside and helped her into bed.

"Night, Ron, " Hermione mumbled as Ron straightened her blanket. "Good night, 'Mione," Ron said before placing a kiss on her forehead. Closing the door behind him and walking back downstairs, Ron smiled. _I wonder what she meant by wanting to sleep with me._

_A/N: So there you go. That's not the end, but it is wrapping up. Thank you for sticking with the story even though the updates are few and far in between – You all are awesome! Thanks for reading and reviewing if you choose to do so._

_One last thing: If you find grammatical errors with this or any other chapter go ahead and let me know (specifically). I think I might look into employing a beta if I decide to continue writing after this story since I really do seem to need one _:P _Thanks again GrintsGal for the unoffical beta-ing!_


	13. Rain and Rest

**Rain and Rest**

_A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my fiancé (who has never read the HP books), who was my inspiration for this chapter (along with some mellow jazz and Semisonic's FNT). Enjoy._

Thick, uncut grass muffles the sounds of a lone woman's footsteps as she walks slowly across an open field away from the ruins of a once impressive fortress. She is tired. Each step is like a small battle, but still she presses on - searching.

Ahead of her, the woman sees a placid lake so expansive she cannot see the shore of the opposite side, only towering mountains in the distance. Overhead she hears a rumble of thunder and feels its tremors travel through her chest. The air is charged with electricity and impending rain.

The woman continues onward towards a cluster of trees near the shore of the lake at a slow and stumbling pace. Here the grass is shorter and softer and sound of the waves is like a whispered lullaby. The woman is drawn to the velvety ground and lays down on her back in time to watch the sky illuminate with webs of lightning and the rain begin to fall.

Watching the beauty of the storming sky, the woman begins to wonder if this is what she has been searching for - until she sees a shadowy figure nearing her along the shore. She does not move from the ground; even now with her query so close, she feels compelled to do little more than keep her gaze focused on him.

The figure stops at her side and offers her his hand. The woman reaches up and feels his warm hand close around hers as he pulls her to her feet. Relief flows through her tired body as the rain continues to fall around them.

_It's about time you got here_, the man whispers into her ear as he pulls her into his arms. The woman smiles and burrows deeper into him. Happiness like she has never felt before envelopes the woman; she has finally found what she has been looking for. The woman pulls back and buries her fingers into the man's fiery hair. He smiles and pulls her closer. _You're still asleep, Love._ She shakes her head and pulls his mouth down to hers. Overhead the sky is scorched by the brightest web of lightning yet, followed closely by a deafening _CRACK!_

Hermione jolted awake, wand in hand. The smell of rain was heavy in the small room as the last reverberations of thunder died. _Where am I?_ she thought nervously. The room looked nothing like any of those in her parents' home. _Is that Ginny?_ _What the hell-_ Quickly memories from the day before resurfaced, particularly those involving Ron and their time by the pond.

She lowered her wand and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. _I'm not going to be able to sleep now,_ she thought with a small smile. _Maybe a bit of tea and reading will help. I wonder if I left _Hogwarts: A History _downstairs . . . _

The Burrow was quiet except for the sounds of the pattering of rain outside and Hermione's footsteps on the stairs. A glow at the bottom of the corridor in the kitchen informed her she wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep. _Oh goodness . . ._

"Hey - what are you doing up?" asked a very shirtless Ron from across the room leaning against the stove.

_Gawking at your bare chest at one in the morning, how about you? _ "I'm_ - _I couldn't," Hermione paused and tried to remember why she came down to the kitchen in the first place. "I was a bit confused where I was when I woke up and figured a bit of tea and reading would straighten things out so I could fall back asleep." Ron didn't grace her with a response, but stared at her with a smirk. "What?"

Ron's smirk grew. "It sounded like you're still a bit confused, that's all."

Hermione felt her blood begin to simmer. "Well you would be too if you were trying to adjust to a ten hour time difference."

He raised his hands to his shoulders in defeat. "Yeah, forgot about that - sorry."

Hermione shook her head and walked over to lean against the counter next to him. "No, it's fine. I guess I'm just a bit touchy from the lack of sleep." She took the steaming cup Ron was nursing and sipped it. "This is lovely by the way."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Thanks, should I go get another cup?"

"Only if you want anymore," Hermione said with a grin. _Hmm - his back is just as lean as his chest, but more freckly. It makes me want to trace shapes all over - stop. Deep breath. _"So you know why I'm up. I think it'd only be fair to tell me what brings you to the kitchen so early in the morning or better yet, why you're here at all seeing as you're living with George now, right?"

Ron didn't answer immediately, but waited until he had finished pouring himself another cup of tea. "I am living with George, but every now and then I bunk here when I want a breakfast of more than just burnt toast. As for your first question - has it occurred to you that maybe I was waiting for you?"

Giving an eye-roll Ginny would be proud of, Hermione fired back, "Oh, please. You're telling me that you've been waiting for me - that you knew I'd be coming down?"

"Why not?"

"Because that's insane! How long have you been down here?"

"About fifteen minutes maybe."

"So all of these years you've only been faking being horrible at Divination?"

"You got me."

"Unbelievable," she mumbled but didn't press the subject. The two stood in comfortable silence for a while sipping their tea. Hermione found herself frequently sneaking glances at Ron, glances that often resulted in her staring rather blatantly at his bare torso. _Get a hold of yourself! You're supposed to be the one with self-control. _She glanced back up at Ron only to find him grinning at her in amusement. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

_Damn, I've been caught._ "I'm . . . just a bit tired still I guess."

Ron gave her a calculating look. "You seemed to be thinking awfully hard about something."

"When am I ever not thinking hard?" she counted.

"You've got a point there," Ron conceded. He stared at her in thought for a moment before his furrowed brows relaxed and he took a sip of his tea. "It's quite a bit cooler down here than it is in my room. Maybe I should have grabbed a shirt."

Hermione bit her lip nervously. "It's not too bad."

"Says the woman wearing my old jumper," he pointed out. "By the way, when did you change? I distinctly remember escorting you to bed while you were still in jeans."

Hermione could feel her face burning. She _was_ wearing his jumper from fourth year that Mrs. Weasley had knitted for him. It was one of her favorite things to sleep in. "I changed when Ginny woke me up when she finally came up last night. But keep in mind that I'm in shorts and you have long pants."

The smirk Ron smirked made Hermione almost drop her cup of tea. "So we're even. Does that mean I can keep staring at your legs then?"

Surprised by his directness, Hermione took his bait, "Only if I can keep staring at your chest."

Ron mockingly covered himself with his hands before folding them across his chest. "_Do_ I need to put a shirt on?"

"No," she answered much too quickly. _Please don't._ "I do have a bit of self control - and it's only fair. Otherwise I'd need to change into pants to keep us even."

"Oh, I'm not too worried," he whispered as he leaned closer to her. "I'm sure I'd find some other part of you to stare at."

Hermione looked away to hide her blush, "You seem awfully confident."

"It's kind of hard not to be," Ron said in a lofty voice. "You happen to be quite attractive."

"Is that so?" Hermione was sure her face couldn't be any redder.

"You just make it too easy for me."

Hermione took a long sip of her tea to wet her impossibly dry throat, trying and failing to come up with a comeback.

"Are you surprised?" Ron asked.

She looked up from her tea and gave him a shy smile. "I guess it's not something I hear very often."

"Well I'll just have to keep reminding you then."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but managed to blush deeper. "It _is_ a bit cool down here," she said quietly, trying to change the subject.

"We could go into the other room and start a fire," Ron suggested, "or we can go up to my room. It's quite a bit warmer up there."

_Don't even think about it. Remember what Ron said happened when Mrs. Weasley caught Harry and Ginny? Do not go upstairs with him! _"Let's go up to your room,:" she said before she could stop herself. "You never know - Ginny and Harry might need the sitting room later tonight."

Ron perked up immediately. "Good point, lead the way."

_What have I gotten myself into?_ Hermione thought as she climbed the stairs to Ron's attic bedroom. She glanced behind at Ron and noticed the dazed look in his eyes, eyes that were level with her rare. Feeling suddenly empowered, Hermione let her hips swing a bit more than necessary up the last flight of stairs.

In the attic room, the rain and small rumbles of thunder were much more noticeable than they were downstairs. His room was exactly how she remembered it, but without Harry's cot. "Where did you say Harry was sleeping now?"

"George's old room. He figured since it was closer to Ginny's room, he wouldn't wake as many people up at night going to the kitchen," Ron said as he closed the door behind him.

She nodded vaguely. The rain had a hypnotic effect on Hermione as she stared out Ron's open window; it reminded her of so many things. "What's on your mind?" Ron whispered into her ear as he loosely embraced her from behind.

"How poetic the rain is," she said after a moment. She felt Ron chuckle against her neck. "It's true! Some of my best and worst memories happened in the rain, but the rain itself doesn't change." Ron's arms tightened slightly around her.

"I think that might be the cheesiest thing you've ever said to me," he mumbled into her hair.

Hermione sighed and leaned back into his arms. "Yeah, you're probably right, but if I remember correctly you do have a fondness for cheese – Somerset cheddar in particular."

"Ha, ha," he said dryly. "That one's gonna cost you." He moved he arms suddenly from around Hermione's waist and attacked her sides with feather-light fingers.

"_Ron,_" she hissed between giggles. He was merciless as she tried to evade his touch, her bottom lip between her teeth in an attempt not to laugh too loudly. Seeing that Ron was trying to tickle her into a corner, Hermione sidestepped him and tried to crawl away from him across his bed only to be flipped onto her back and attacked again. "Okay, okay!" she gasped. "You win!" Ron's fingers stopped and Hermione inhaled deeply; his face looked blurry from the tears of mirth in her eyes as she looked up at him. _Oh my - his smile really is lovely._

"You're a mess," he chuckled as he moved her hair from her eyes, "a beautiful one, but still a mess." He looked a bit nervous with his knees straddling her thighs and his hands on either side of her torso.

"I wonder whose fault that is." She poked him in the chest where he was leaning over her.

"Couldn't be mine," he whispered as he leaned down further.

_Breathe, stay calm_. "Well it certainly isn't mine." _Inhale, exhale._ Ron hovered over her and licked his lips. _Now he's just being mean._

"But I'm pretty sure it is," he whispered inches from her lips.

His breath on her lips, the warmth of his radiating heat, the scent of him everywhere - it was too much for the agitated brunette. She simply snapped.

It was the Room of Requirements all over again. Without warning, Hermione slipped her slender hands from their spot neatly folded on her stomach to either side of his grinning face and pulled him down to her restless lips. The soft pattering of rain was replaced by blood pounding in the young woman's ears as coherent thought was replaced by beautifully conflicting sensations - the softness of Ron's lips, the abrasiveness of his stubble, the maddening ache quickly building deep inside of her . . .

Ron's lips suddenly left hers. _What's - Oh god._ Hermione tilted her head to gave Ron better access to her neck. She was vaguely aware that the sighs and moans she heard were coming from herself as one of his hands tangled itself in her chaotic hair. "_Ron," _she whimpered at the feel of his teeth.

Her hands drifted lower down his body, her nails leading the way. She felt Ron's lips stop on her neck as she lightly scratched her way down his back. _Like that, do you_?Ron's feral growl mixed with the echoes of distant thunder. Feeling bold and overheated, Hermione pushed him back on his haunches. Ron opened his mouth in confusion, but she shook her head and quickly pulled off her favorite jumper. She watched his gaze fall to her tank top-covered chest and remained there.

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered. Amidst the anxious hands and possessive lips, Hermione was aware of falling back onto his pillow and then the weight of his body pressed entirely against hers. She was aware of his tongue running roughly along hers and his hips rocking subtly in a rhyme she quickly learned how to match. She was aware of her own breaths coming quicker until they came in shuddering gasps and then . . . nothing - at least nothing that could be described with any of the words in her extensive vocabulary.

_Is that my heartbeat or Ron's?_ she thought lazily after the movement stopped and lust-fueled cloud cleared. She could feel something beating in her chest, but outside of it at the same time. Ron still had his face buried in her shoulder where he'd muffled his moans earlier. "For the record, my hair being a mess is entirely your fault."

Ron lifted his punch-drunk face and grinned. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Your hair looks fine."

"Git."

Much to Hermione's disappointment, Ron rolled off of her and onto his side facing her. "I've never seen you look so beautiful," he said in a low and sincere voice.

Hermione felt her mouth moving, but heard no words came out. Emotions clouded her throat and tears prickled her eyes. She felt so vulnerable and happy and something else she couldn't pinpoint. "Thank you," she managed to whisper.

Ron's smile seemed too big for his face to contain. "No, thank _you_. I'm the one who gets to stare at you and enjoy you in your finest hour."

Laughter erupted from her throat before she could stop it. "And you thought _I_ was being cheesy before," she said wiping the tears from her eyes.

Ron snaked an arm around her and pulled her close. "But it's true."

Hermione stared up into his eyes felt the world melt away. "I don't doubt that for a moment." Their lips met in an achingly slow kiss that left Hermione somewhere above the rain clouds.

"Stay with me for the night," was his whispered request.

The possibility of sleeping in Ginny's room for the rest of the morning hadn't crossed Hermione's mind in over an hour. "Okay, but I need to be out of here before your mum wakes up."

"Sounds like a plan." After reluctantly separating, Ron set his alarm while Hermione retrieved his sheets from the floor. Curling on her side, she felt Ron crawl in behind and ease an arm under her pillow and the other over her hip. As the gentle sound of the sprinkling rain and Ron's deep breaths began to lull her to sleep, a small smile spread across Hermione's face. _I told him I wouldn't forget._

_A/N: Hermione is of course referring to the end of the previous chapter if you didn't catch that. Thank you to all of the folks that have left me awesome reviews. Thank you for returning for the thirteenth installment and hope you enjoyed your stay and as always, feel free to let us know what you thought of the chapter. _

_PS: Thanks to whoever nominated me and this story for the RHr awards – that made my day._


	14. Worries and Weariness

**Worries and Weariness (Chapter 14)**

"Sugar, dear?" Molly asked as she poured the tea.

"No, thank you," Hermione somehow managed to eek out. _If only I had left a minute earlier . . . _

"Here you are." Molly place a steaming cup in front of her guest. "My goodness, it feels like we haven't had a chance to talk in ages. We didn't really get a chance to talk much yesterday. How are you?"

Hermione grabbed her tea and took a long sip to buy herself some time. _I'm exhausted and want to go to bed, back to Ron's bed. _"A bit tired from the time difference I suppose. And you?" Hermione could not hide the nervousness from her voice.

"Keeping busy as usual. It just seems so empty here without Bill and Fleur and Charlie, especially with Ron and George living above the shop now, but without your and Fleur's help around here the chores have keep my mind off of it. Oh - that reminds me, I was just out to the shop yesterday to bring George and Ron their lunch when I bumped into Minerva McGonagall at Gringotts. It seems a budget for the repairs to the school has finally been set by the school board and she's anxious to get things started. I was meaning to bring it up to the boys and Ginny last night, but I just got so caught up I completely forgot." Molly paused and sipped her tea. "They've seemed a bit restless now that things at the ministry have calmed down and Ron and George are at the shop." She paused again thoughtfully. "I was especially worried about Ron for a while. He seemed a bit too anxious and worried while you were gone, but now that you're back he's seemed to have relaxed a bit."

Hermione felt her face flush with embarrassment in the coolness of the early morning air in the kitchen.

"Of course I think he had fair reason to be worried, we all were for a while until Ron told us you had written him."

"I'm sorry, I didn't expect my misadventure to reach all of you so quickly," Hermione whispered quietly.

"Oh, don't be silly dear! We were all worried simply because you insisted on going to find your parents alone. That was a hefty task to take on by yourself. We're just relieved everything work out."

There was something odd about Molly's tone; instead of having a guilting quality, it was comforting and sincere. It was an odd way to go about making a person feel guilty for getting caught sneaking out of her son's room just before dawn Hermione thought.

"Me, too," Hermione said to her tea cup. She could feel Molly's curious stare on her, but refused to acknowledge it. "I'm not sure when they'll be able to come home . . . or if they will at all. They started their practice out there after they noticed the area didn't have a dental office. The closest was practically a day's trip north. I know they like all of the sun and I don't know if could ask them to move back here when I know they're needed where they are and love it out there." It felt odd to say all of her worries about her parents out loud; it was as if the act of saying them made them more real. Why was she telling Molly all of this?

Hermione felt Molly reach across the table and gently gripped her hands over Hermione's around her tea cup. "And that's what makes you such a wonderfully selfless person, dear. Not many people truly care enough about the people they love to put their needs and wants above your own. But I think perhaps you're taking it a bit too far. You don't need to feel guilty about wanting your parents near you - I'm sure they want that just as much if not more than you." Hermione nodded, still unable to raise her eyes. "If you're worried about them missing their new home, would there be a way they could spilt their time there and here? Maybe spend their summers here and winters there and have two practices?"

_Could that really work? _Hermione wondered. Her parents could have the best of both counties and still be able to spend time with her during part of the year. _Was the answer really that simple?_ Hermione finally met Molly's soft eyes with a pensive look. "That could work." Hermione felt a smile tug at her lips. "That could definitely work."

Molly's smile was radiant as she withdrew her hands and finished her tea. "More tea?"

Smiling into her half finished cup, Hermione declined and watched patiently as Molly returned with a fresh cup of her own.

"Now I have a very blunt question for you," Molly said after a long sip. "What were you doing sneaking out of Ronald's room at six in the morning?"

_And here it comes_. Hermione took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I . . . I was going back down to Ginny's room."

"I see." Molly raised an eyebrow. "And what were you doing in Ronald's room at six in the morning?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip as she tried to formulate her words in the least damning way possible. "I fell asleep there after running into Ron down here last night."

"Hmm." Hermione waited on pins and needles for Molly to start her scolding . . . but it didn't come. "This is hardly the first time I've caught someone in the wrong bed. I'm sure Ron told you about Ginny and Harry, but I can't tell you how many of Bill's and Charlie's _girlfriends_ I've met on the stairs on my way to start breakfast over the years. I must have caught Fleur at least a dozen times last summer alone. I've had to learn to ignore most of it, but it's hard to admit that my youngest children have grown up, too." Molly paused and Hermione glanced up in time to see a small frown on the older woman's face before it softened. "I may not like it, but I am trying to accept it. Now, more than ever, I'm appreciating how important it is to have the one you love near you at any time, day or night. Though I'm not condoning it, I'd appreciate if you'd allow me a bit more ignorance on the subject. I have no doubt that this will not be the last night you spend away from your own bed, but I don't need to know about it."

A confused smile fought onto Hermione's face. "Does this apply to Harry and Ginny, too?"

Molly sighed tiredly. "Yes, but I don't think they're ready for me to tell them explicitly. Harry has spent his whole life living up to other people's expectations that he needs to learn who he is and what he wants out of his life, and Ginny - she needs Harry to be stronger than I think he's ready to be. I don't want to give them an invitation to rush things."

"But why tell me?"

"Because after talking to you this morning, I think you're both ready for it. I admit I had my doubts for a while about whether you were serious about your relationship with Ron, but now I know your heart is in the right place and I know you with all of your sensibility will not see this as an invitation to jump into things you're not ready for."

Hermione felt her cheeks glow with warmth. She was touched that Molly thought so highly of her and Ron that Molly would, however grudgingly, give them this freedom. She was also flushed from thinking back to earlier that morning to the emotions and feelings Ron invoked in her and how she would do just about anything to feel all of it again. "Thank you for your trust, Mrs. Weasley."

Molly nodded seriously. "Just promise me that you'll be careful, dear. I'm expecting my first grandchild to be from Bill and Fleur not the two of you."

"Of course," Hermione stammered before hiding behind her cup. The kitchen was quiet for a moment as the two women sipped their tea.

After a minute Molly smiled and headed to the stove to start breakfast. "So are you ready for today?"

Hermione frowned, "What's happening today?"

Molly turned from her frying meat. "Didn't Ron tell you? You're supposed to go into the ministry this morning and give your statement about what happened at M- _at that terrible house_."

_Oh, bugger._ "He did tell me, I just completely forgot," Hermione mumbled. She'd also forgotten that everyone now knew about what happened at Malfoy Manor. It wasn't something she liked to think about often.

"Harry said the wizard in charge of taking the statement was very kind and understanding when he gave his."

"Okay."

"Ron wouldn't say a whole lot after his."

"I suppose not."

Molly returned to her cooking with a sad smile. Hermione knew Molly was nudging her to open up, but she just couldn't do it. She liked it better when only those who were there knew.

"Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said as she stood. "I'm going to try to get a bit more sleep."

"You're welcome, dear," Molly said taking Hermione's empty cup. "And, Hermione?" Hermione met her eyes for the first time in many minutes. "I think you'll probably sleep better in Ronald's room."

Hermione flushed scarlet, but only nodded and walked up the stairs, pausing briefly to bid Mr. Weasley a good morning as he headed to the kitchen.

Ron was still just as asleep as when she snuck out earlier, only now he was spread over his whole bed. "Ron," she said gently shaking his shoulder. Ron opened his eyes beadily. "Is there room for me?"

With what looked like a substantial amount of effort, Ron rolled onto his side facing her. "Always," he said in a sleepy voice. Hermione climbed in with her back to him and felt his body curl around hers. Even if she couldn't avoid her trip to the ministry, at least she could enjoy a few more hours of peace in the arms of the man she loved.

_A/N: A little cheesy, I know_. _I'm back to writing now that my life has calmed a bit. When I started writing this chapter it went in the exact opposite direction with Molly being pissed and giving Hermione an earful_, _but it just didn't feel right - it only took over a dozen drafts and talking to my future mother-in-law_, _but it worked itself out in the end. I've completely changed the direction of the rest of the fic, too so hopefully I can get back to a more scheduled updating pattern. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with the story and as always reviews are greatly appreciated._


	15. Beds and Bugs

**Beds and Bugs**

_A/N: Just a quick note: I changed my penname from __**nels5189**__ to __**SXYPigeon**__. More after the chapter._

_-Mione . . . Hermione. _

The sleepy brunette burrowed deeper into the blankets.

_Hermione, wake up. _"Hermione!"

The brunette started violently and rolled over to glare at the wizard whispering her name in a panicked voice. "_What_ is it, Ronald?"

"What do you mean _what is it, Ronald?" _the ginger wizard hissed. "You're supposed to be in Ginny's room by now. Mum is going to have kittens if she finds you up here!"

"Ron, it's-"

"Didn't the alarm go off? - Bloody hell, did the charm wear off on it?"

"Ron-"

"You have to go now. You might be able to make it if you use a disillusion charm or maybe summon Harry's cloak - no, wait that won't work. I could summon my broom and fly you to Ginny's room maybe..."

"Are you finished, Ronald?"

"Why are you still just laying there?!"

The young witch gave him one last glare before rolling away from him and getting out of his bed. "For the record," she said as she retrieved her wand from under his pillow, "your mother already knows I'm up here." With that, she turned and walked to the door.

Confused, the young man quickly scurried out of his sheets and cut her off at the door. "What are you on about?" he asked in a sharp whisper.

Impatience flashed dangerously in her eyes as she whispered, "What part of it was unclear?"

He crossed his arms across his bare chest. "The part where my mum knows you're up here."

"It's pretty self-explanatory, don't you think?"

"I'm a bit foggy on the _how._"

"I tried to explain before, but you were far more worried about _throwing_ me out of your room than hearing what I had to say, so if you'd kindly move I'll just leave you alone."

"Not until you tell me what's going on!"

"Are going to listen this time or just continue to talk _at _me?"

"_Fu-_ I wasn't talking at you-"

"Well you certainly weren't talking _to_ me!"

"What was I supposed to do? You weren't saying anything or moving-"

"I tried to! You just insisted on ignoring me!"

"I was losing my mind! You just let me keep going!"

"That was your own fault! What was _I_ supposed to do?"

The angry wizard bit back his retort. "You know what? You're absolutely right."

"I - What are you-" The he gently grasped the brunette's face and cut off her retort with his lips. He could feel her stiffen immediately, but with a moan he felt rather than heard, she began to move her lips against his.

_Why didn't I think of this years ago?_ Ron thought as he pulled Hermione flush against his body. _I was too afraid to touch her, now I remember. _To confirm that was no longer the case, he trailed his hand firmly down her back, coming to a halt on her arse with a squeeze. Their kiss was interrupted by Hermione's shuddering breath before she pulled Ron back towards his bed.

_Wait, what's she-_ "Umph!" Before Ron knew what was happening, Hermione had turned quickly towards the bed while pulling him forward causing him to lose his balance and fall onto his bed on his back. With wide eyes, he watched her climb on top of him, straddling his waist.

She didn't move for what felt like ages. She just stared down at Ron with an almost feral gaze, leaving her every emotion written on her face for him to see. Her hands felt cool where she gripped his chest.

Just as quickly as the moment happened, it ended. Hermione broke her gaze and moved off of him.

_What just happened?_ Ron wondered as he watched her turn her back to him as she ran her fingers through her hair. Her posture was tense and agitated. Ron stood and walked slowly towards her. "Hey, what's wrong?" he whispered.

She didn't immediately turn, but glanced over her shoulder. Her brows were furrowed and her bottom lip was wedged firmly between her teeth. "I don't want to do this."

Ron felt his heart skip a beat. _Do what? Snog or be with me?_ "I'm confused," he said timidly.

Hermione turned towards him with terrified eyes. "I don't want to go to the ministry." Though shocked by her fear, Ron let out a silent breath of relief. "I don't think I can do it," she said in a wavering voice.

No words of comfort came to Ron's mind as he looked down at her. It was going to be difficult for her to say the least. So instead of speaking, he gathered her up in his arms and felt her cling to him like he was the only thing keeping her upright.

After a while she loosened her hold and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lose it like that. . . . This is going to be awful, isn't it?"

Ron grimaced and nodded. "I shut myself in here for most of the day afterward. Harry had enough sense to talk to Ginny after he got back, so I don't think it was as bad for him."

"So everyone knows everything then?" Hermione muttered in frustration. "Why do I need to repeat what you and Harry have said?"

"They just want to make sure they get their facts straight," Ron said gently. "You were the only one who was up there."

Hermione sat down on the edge of his bed and rested her elbows on her knees. Ron was at a loss; it wasn't often that Hermione was the one needing support and convincing to do something important. He copied her and sat down. "I know it's not going to be fun." Ron ignored her incredulous snort. "I still need to remind myself sometimes that you made it out of there - that you're okay. And since you are okay, I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure you stay okay - or good or great, but at least okay. I'm going to be with you the whole time, if you want me to be."

Ron watched nervously as Hermione looked up from her hands to the wall in front of her pensively. "You'd be willing to go through it all again?"

"I'd go through a hell of a lot worse for you, Hermione," he said seriously.

Hermione finally looked at him with watery eyes and smiled. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay, I want you to come with," she clarified.

"Okay then."

Hermione slapped his leg lightly. "Git."

Ron wrapped his arms around her tightly, "And you wouldn't want me any other way."

"Exactly," she laughed softly. "Thanks, Ron."

_Bloody, effing cockroach,_ Ron thought murderously. _If I ever get my hands on-_

His dark musings were interrupted by the sound of Hermione's chair squeaking. She had been silent and, for the most part, unmoving for the last ten minutes. Her lack of emotion was starting to make him think she was still in shock. _Why_ did he convince her to come the ministry today?

"You're shredding that," Hermione said in a soft voice.

Ron looked down at Auror McClain's newspaper in his hands, or what was left of it. He tossed the twisted paper back on the table in front of them. "Sorry."

The silence dragged on, only interrupted by the tick of the cheap clock on the wall opposite of the door.

"She's not saying a word, I'm afraid," McClain said several dozen clock ticks later when he returned. "She knows what she's going to be charged with, but I think, in her mind, it was worth it."

"The entire bases of our deal, of giving our statements, was that this information was to be kept from the public and now you're telling me that even if that hag is going to Azkaban she's still going to write about this. You can't do anything to stop it?" Ron growled.

"We can prohibit her from writing her story, but it will get out. She has too many contacts and too many aliases to be kept quiet for long." The Auror rubbed his face warily. "I can't say enough how sorry the ministry and myself personally are for this mess."

Ron dropped his head into his hands and massaged his temples. If he had any say in this, he'd walk into the next room and shove that acid green quill down the vile woman's throat. That might stop her.

"I'd like to have a word with Ms. Skeeter." Ron looked up in confusion - what in Merlin's name would Hermione want to talk to that parasite for?

"I don't think it will do any good, but I can get it set up," McClain said, "but your wand will have to stay with me during your chat with Ms. Skeeter."

_Maybe if I think about it hard enough, she'll spontaneously burst into flames,_ Ron thought as he stared at Rita Skeeter through the mirror in the viewing room. She looked as hearty as ever, looking perfectly relaxed as she picked at her violently orange fingernails. _Maybe it'll work better if I concentrate on one part of her - like her nails._

"My goodness, is this your attempt at scaring me into talking," Rita said in a bored voice, "leaving _her_ in here with me?"

Ron lost his concentration and watched McClain and Hermione enter the room and address the reporter. "That's not my goal at all, Ms. Skeeter. Miss Granger has requested a meeting with you - and don't worry yourself too much, I have her wand. Let Auror Douglas know when you want to leave, Miss Granger." The silent Auror near the door nodded to Hermione.

The door closed with a soft click.

"Have you explained to that monkey with a wand how you knew I was there or have you conveniently forgotten to mention it?" Rita was practically purring as she spoke to Hermione.

Hermione's face was expressionless as she slid into the chair opposite the reporter. "I was staring at the floor during the entire interview - you were hard to miss."

"Do you have a habit of checking every bug you find for animagi? My, my - you're starting to sound like old Mad Eye."

"Only the ones that don't act like bugs."

"I'm sure."

Ron doubled his concentration and thought about Harry's favorite idea for offing their least favorite, ant-like reporter. _I'm going to need a massive magnifying glass._

"I'm curious about the angle you're planning on taking with your piece," Hermione said baldly.

Rita's smile reminded Ron of poisoned honey. "What story are you talking about dear? Didn't McClain tell you I'm not allowed to write about what I heard?"

Hermione matched the reporter's smile. "We both know you're far too clever to let that stop you."

"I'm touched, but I'm afraid I'm not above the law like you seem to be."

_Screw the magnifying glass, Incendio would be more effective._

"I'm here to offer you a compromise," Hermione said, ignoring Rita's last comment. "I'm willing to give my consent for you to publish what you heard, and receive full credit for it, under three conditions."

Rita snorted and rolled her eyes. "This sounds familiar. I don't suppose I'll be getting paid."

"No, you won't. All of the profit made from the story will go to victims of the war, particularly muggleborns targeted by the ministry. My second condition is that I need to approve of anything you write, now and in the future, about what you overheard before it goes to print."

"Demanding aren't we?"

"And my last condition is that should you feel the need to insult me in the future, you do not in any way imply that my brain has been somehow addled by my experiences of that night."

The reporter leaned back in her chair and surveyed the young woman. "_Is _your brain addled?"

"Not in the least."

"But - for clarity sake - in the future, I can insult you, in print or in person, as long as I don't say you've lost your marbles because of your prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse."

"I'd like it better if you didn't insult me at all, but I understand that it's not in your nature to hold back your opinion of anyone for more than a few seconds."

The room was silent for several tense moments. Ron had given up on spontaneous combustion and was pondering Hermione's deal along with Skeeter.

"Why wait so long to tell the ministry, why didn't you tell them right away along with everything else?" Rita asked, sounding somewhat serious for the first time.

Hermione stared intently at her. "Do we have a deal?"

"I don't suppose there's a way to get out of any jail time."

"That's between you and the ministry. Do _we_ have a deal?"

Rita Skeeter glared briefly at the brunette before sighing dramatically, "I'll let you know when I have the article ready."

"George!"

The one-eared ginger in question smiled down the table at his mother. "Yes, Mum?"

Molly Weasley shot a stern look over her recently prepared dinner at her son. "Why do my potatoes taste like asparagus?"

"I haven't the faintest idea. Perhaps you're coming down with a cold?"

"Mine do, too," Ginny said with a grin "but my roll tastes like the potatoes."

"Are you sure they aren't potato rolls?" George asked taking a bite of his meat.

Coughing and swearing interrupted Molly's demand for an explanation. "Why does the roast taste like the pudding?" Ron growled at his brother.

"So that would leave the asparagus tasting like the roast and the pudding tasting like the rolls. Is that about right?" Hermione said with a smile as Harry snorted into his pumpkin juice.

"Change it back, George," Arthur said with a poorly concealed grin.

George gave a guilty shrug. "I would if I knew how."

"Just reverse the spell," Molly hissed evenly.

"It doesn't quite work that way I'm afraid. The spell kind of changes the flavors at random and I haven't figured out how undo it just yet."

"So we have to eat with everything messed up?" Ron moaned at his plate. His passion for food was waning.

"It all still tastes just as amazing as ever, I don't see what the problem is."

Ron looked over to Hermione and watched her giggle slightly as she ate. George did have a point.

"By the way, Mum, the asparagus is delicious," George said taking a bite of his potatoes before Ron's dinner roll collided with the side of his face.

"Well that was an odd dinner."

"I think I'm scarred for life. I'm always going to be afraid my dinner with taste like dessert."

Ron and Hermione chuckled as the sky around them darkened slowly. Crookshanks stealthily slunk past them down the porch steps toward the garden.

"I'm surprised you haven't told him to leave the gnomes alone," Ron said as they watched a bushy tail slip out of sight.

"Like you actually care," Hermione said looking over her shoulder at Ron.

"No, but I figured you would."

Hermione smirked and leaned back farther into him. "Well I don't and I think the gnomes enjoy playing with Crookshanks."

Ron straightened up and wrapped his arms around Hermione. "So you have no plans for a society for improvement of gnome-ish welfare?" he asked, his chin resting on her shoulder.

"Not in the least." Hermione felt Ron's chest move against her back as he chuckled. After spending the day with her stomach in knots, sitting on the steps in front of the Burrow between Ron's knees was nothing short of paradise.

"I was half expecting Mum to box his ear when he said he couldn't change the food back," Ron said with the slightest air of disappointment.

"I imagine he'll have it figured out soon. I think your mum is just happy he's pulling pranks again."

Ron chuckled. "I guess."

"He seems a lot better now than before I left," Hermione said softly.

"Yeah," Ron mumbled. "He still has his bad days though. He tries to stay away from the apartment if no one else is there. Every night after work he goes for a pint with Lee or Angelina, or me if they can't." He rubbed his stubble tiredly. "I know he's always been a social bloke, but I'm starting to worry he's afraid to be alone."

"He might be," Hermione said as she softly rubbed his knee, "but I'm not sure that's an awful thing. I certainly don't enjoy being alone lately."

"I wouldn't bother me so much if he didn't come back to the apartment pissed every other night."

The sorrow in his voice was infectious. "Give him time. As long as he's still able to run the shop, I think he'll be okay."

Ron graced her with half of his usual smile. "You're probably right - You're always right, what am I thinking?"

"You're thinking about what's best for your brother," she said gently. "You're being a good brother."

Ron looked at the steps beside him and tried to ignore his warm ears. "So . . . Are you doing okay, what with the ministry thing?"

Hermione snorted. "About as well as a person can be after realizing the worst experience they've ever had is about to be made public knowledge."

"I'm sorry for making you go in," Ron said quietly. "If I'd known-"

"There's nothing to be sorry for. No one could have predicted Skeeter getting past security."

"Still, I feel like an arse. I guess next time there's an interview at the ministry you don't want to do, you can hex me and not go."

"I'll keep that in mind." Hermione moved closer to Ron and leaned her head more fully against his chest. "I think we'll be seeing her more than any us want to in the next few weeks. I don't want her to just publish her story by itself. I think we should tell her everything - within reason."

Ron tried not to tense and cringe at her words. "Do you think we should? I'm sure we could get someone else if you'd like or we can wait. We don't owe anyone an explanation."

"I know," she said softly, "but I think it would be easier to just tell everyone and stop the rumors and speculation." Hermione shivered. "If I have to read another story about how you and Harry are fighting over me I might do something rash."

Ron wrapped his arm around her waist. "Like what?"

Hermione grinned and arched a brow. "Like snog you in front of the shop for everyone to see."

"No, you wouldn't," Ron laughed. "Not that I would object, though."

"I'm sure." Hermione burrowed closer into his warm body and smiled.

"I suppose we should tell Harry about your plan then."

"It can wait until tomorrow."

"Are you sure? You're not one to procrastinate," he said as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I know. You must be _rubbing off _on me," she said with an impish smirk.

Ron paused for a moment in shock. _Hermione Granger telling dirty jokes? _"You saucy little witch. And here I thought I was the only one with a dirty mouth."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, unable hold back a round of high-pitched laughter.

"You are just full of surprises today, Miss Granger," Ron whispered into her ear. He smiled as he felt her shiver against him. "Anymore tricks up you're sleeve I should know about?"

She gave him a quick, but dazzling smile and shrugged. "I have no tricks."

"I beg to differ." He let his lips brush her ear as he spoke. "What about last night? Or - better yet - this morning?"

She stared at her clasped hands between her knees and chuckled nervously. "Funny what happens when I stop thinking and just - just act impulsively."

"_Funny_ wasn't quite the word I was thinking of. I think _bloody brilliant_ works better."

"I can't take all of the credit, you know." She turned and was nose-to-nose with him. "You were pretty brilliant, too"

"Just _pretty_ brilliant?"

"_Bloody_ brilliant."

An hour later, Hermione laid in bed with still swollen lips and happily endured Ginny's eye-rolling and teasing. Tomorrow she would worry about Rita Skeeter. Tonight, though, she would be a love-struck teenager and let herself dream about a future with her favorite ginger.

_A/N: So I'm back with a new penname to celebrate finally being married and because I'm now addicted to my PS3 - both of which I'm blaming for being gone for so long … and I'm a lazy git._

_Feel free to be harsh with your reviews, I deserve it. _

_-Mrs. former nels5189_


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